Chuck versus the Saint
by KuryakinGirl
Summary: The requirement for sainthood is performing three miracles. And death. Sequel to Chuck versus the Paranoia and Chuck versus the False Alarm.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer—Recognizable characters belong to Joshua Schwartz and Chris Fedak. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author's Notes—Writing in reverse order. While the first story is done, and the beginnings of the second are in the works, I find myself writing this third story instead of the second. Evil plot bunnies. This would not be possible without the great patience and immeasurable talent of Brandywine00.

Many thanks to the many wonderful people I've met here in the Chuck-dom. You are all fantastic. :D

Spoilers—Well, we kinda went AU-ish from the start with this series. General knowledge. What to accept from Season 3 canon: Morgan knows. What to ignore from Season 3 canon... Casey's being fired... I think that's mostly it. :)

Chuck versus the Saint—The requirement for sainthood is performing three miracles. And death.

* * *

If there was one thing John Casey had come to rely on, it was his gut instincts. Something was wrong. It wasn't that the bar wasn't his kind of scene, with pulsating music he could feel in his veins or strobe lights that would send any epileptic into fits. It was something else, a feeling he couldn't shake.

When his earpiece suddenly went dead, when his watch couldn't transmit, his blood ran cold.

He'd lost sight of his partners, Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker. They'd been on the dance floor, gyrating to the noise, their eyes ever watchful for their marks.

He abandoned his post; he had to. Sliding over the top of the bar, his blue eyes scanned the entire club unrelentingly. He was looking for a tall, lanky nerd in a black suit and a baby blue oxford and an athletic blonde in a ruby red party dress that hugged all the right curves.

It didn't take long for him to spot the geek.

Chuck shook his head, never once glancing somewhere other than the bar. He didn't even look back at Sarah when she said something. He climbed onto one of the bar's small tables. One black Chuck Taylor followed by the other.

"Get down, idiot," Casey muttered. He couldn't even hear his own voice, not above the music that just seemed to keep getting louder and louder. As he scanned the rest of the club, everything slowed down.

The waitress, the redhead that had flirted with him when she placed her orders, wasn't paying attention to any of the patrons, other than the one standing on the table. Her smile was gone. The softness in her eyes was replaced with ice cold steel. From beneath her tray, she pulled a small silver handgun.

He took a half second to look back at his team. Chuck was saying something this time. Sarah didn't see the threat; she wasn't looking the right direction.

Casey grit his teeth, shoving his way through the crowd. He would've pulled his own weapon had he thought he could get the shot off without hurting any of the civilians. The way the lights flickered, everyone seemed to move. It was subtle, but it was enough to make firing a risk he was unwilling to take. His job was to protect, to ensure safety, not hurt someone in friendly fire, not if he could help it.

He tackled her, sending her to the ground.

* * *

It wasn't just the thud of two people falling onto the ground that made the dance floor part like the Red Sea. It was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Chuck watched as a woman shoved a man off of her in the center of the new clearing. She stumblingly got to her feet, backing away. As the music came to a screeching halt, it was Sarah's breathless voice that made him realize, exactly, what had happened. "Casey?" She sprinted forward as the man tried to stand.

Chuck jumped from the table, following in Sarah's wake.

Casey couldn't remain upright; he fell to his knees then careened back onto the floor. He'd been shot before. He'd been stabbed, tortured. None of his previous experiences came even close to the pain he found himself in.

Sarah stopped briefly at his side, but he waved her on.

Chuck slid on his knees, coming to a stop next to his NSA handler, watching the blood gush freely from the hole in his chest. "You're gonna be fine, big guy," Chuck managed. The words felt thick and they got caught in his throat. As the houselights came up, he pulled his coat off and pressed it to the wound. "You're gonna be fine," he repeated. It didn't make him feel any better; he wasn't sure if it was working for Casey, either.

He'd give anything to flash, to know instantly what to do, to save one of his best friends from dying, from bleeding out in the center of some dirty nightclub. His mind screamed at him: _flash, flash, flash, dammit, flash!_

Casey found that his eyelids were hard to keep open. Reaching out, he grabbed onto Chuck's shirt, pulling the geek towards him. It was difficult to keep his grip. The gangly Intersect, who he'd never had any trouble pushing around, was almost too heavy to bring forward.

"It's okay, Casey, I promise," Chuck said, lowering himself further when he saw Casey try to speak.

"Tell your sister..." His voice hitched slightly. "Tell Ellie I'm sorry."

* * *

The Emergency Room at Westside Medical was always a hotbed of excitement on a Friday night. Gang rumbles, drug deals gone bad, and the general population crazies who had nothing better to do with their weekend except make her life difficult.

She stood at the nurses' station, reviewing a chart. It had been a long shift, but it would be over at midnight. She could go home, curl up next to her husband, and sleep, uninterrupted, till noon. At least, that was her plan.

The radio crackled to life, and a report from an ambulance rolled in. "ETA, five minutes. Middle-aged male, gunshot wound. Blood type, AB-negative..."

Ellie Woodcomb scrambled, making sure the closest triage room was clear, overseeing as nurses brought in IV fluids and plenty of blood for transfusions.

When the doors opened and the body was wheeled in, she never saw his face. She focused solely on the gaping wound in his chest.

"No exit," said the paramedic. "Vitals keep dropping."

Ellie began barking orders, taking easy command of her ER. She worked feverishly, trying to stem some of the blood flow, trying to stabilize him so he could be wheeled to the operating room, so a more skilled surgeon could save his life.

"Stay with me," she murmured.

* * *

Stay Tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

She saw the blonde clearly entering the back of the van. Then there was the figure in the back, completely hidden. She could just make out his shadowy form. She saw movement, watching as someone slid behind the wheel. She couldn't see his face, not until the surveillance van pulled away from the curb and beneath a streetlight.

She made sure she remembered his features. The strong jaw, the cheekbones, the nose.

She had a feeling she'd see them again.

She smiled to herself.


	2. Chapter 1

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: On a mission at a nightclub, Casey gets shot. On a regular shift at the ER, Ellie takes a gunshot wound patient.

* * *

Yesterday

* * *

"Donovan Hathaway..."

The photo appeared on the large flat-screen in Castle. He didn't look so mean, Chuck decided. He looked more like a metro-sexual with his perfectly coiffed dark brown hair. He was even fairly certain the man's eyebrows had been waxed, if that were possible. At the very least, they'd been treated or taken care of in some way.

Casey grunted. "Pretty Boy Floyd," he muttered under his breath.

"Our favorite smarmy weapons dealer," commented Sarah.

General Diane Beckman cleared her throat. "Donovan Hathaway," she said again from her office in Washington, D.C., "will be arriving in L.A. tomorrow morning to finalize negotiations on a weapons deal with a Ring agent known only as Catalyst."

"Where do people come up with code names?" Chuck asked. "Catalyst? Ooh, scary. We should be shaking in our boots, right?" he said, glancing at Casey for backup.

The older agent merely looked at him.

Chuck cleared his throat. "I'm just saying it sounds about as menacing as, well, nothing. There is no menace, no malice there whatsoever."

Casey leaned forward slightly. "What's the plan, General?"

"Hathaway will be meeting with Catalyst at Club Phoenix tomorrow night, eight thirty. The three of you will be there, in position. I want to know what Hathaway is selling and, most importantly, the identity of Catalyst."

The three in Castle chorused: "Yes, ma'am."

The screen the General had been on morphed back into the Directorate of National Intelligence logo.

* * *

Ellie watched her husband, Devon, from the dining room as he rode the stationary bike. His blue eyes held a laser-like focus on some invisible spot on the floor. She could only imagine what music he must be listening to, something upbeat, something pumping. It was clear he was in the "zone," completely oblivious to anything and everything around him.

Which was why she stood back, watching.

All right, perhaps _spying_ was a better term.

He wasn't as awkward anymore when she asked him questions. She wasn't sure, but it seemed like some of the answers he gave had been practiced. Why would someone need to practice giving answers to innocent questions? How difficult was it, really, to tell her how his day had been, or what all he'd done? The responses he'd been giving for the past few weeks were vague. Before she'd have a chance to ask a follow up, he'd turn the tables, asking her something specific, something important. It would end whatever innocent conversation they were having.

He was getting good at it. Too good. It troubled her.

Every now and then, she could see the edges of the walls that surrounded his heart and his mind. The ones that had, once upon a time, been transparent to her but were now opaque and cloudy.

She chewed on her thumbnail without realizing it, trying to piece together the details, to figure out when, exactly, everything had started. When Devon had become someone not quite himself.

She didn't dare say he'd become someone else. She wasn't sure things had gotten _that_ bad yet. It seemed, however, that she wasn't far from making that decision.

He'd definitely been that way since before her trip to San Francisco. He'd been peculiar at the consulate party, and then he'd disappeared. For weeks afterward, he'd jump at his own shadow, at hers. He'd become paranoid, anxious. If she didn't know better, she would've guessed he'd been on something. She'd seen enough people tweaking to know what it looked like.

While Devon's behavior had been highly suspect, that reality was implausible. He was a health fanatic. If he wasn't on the bike, he was doing sit-ups. If he wasn't doing sit-ups, he was going for a run. If he wasn't going for a run, he was on the bike. It was a vicious cycle, one she only occasionally entered. She had her own exercise regimen that was nowhere near so militant. She was a big believer in being healthy, in having things in moderation, even exercise. Going overboard on his circuit training wasn't something that appealed to her personally.

As she watched him pedal harder, she thought back harder. She remembered dozens of times where Chuck and Devon would be in quiet conversation in another room, across the hall, away from her. She'd always told herself that it was her overactive imagination, that there was no way they were conspiring on anything, that there was no way they were keeping anything from her.

A memory all but forgotten, all but shoved completely out of her mind returned: Chuck easing Devon's hospital key card back into his belongings after the bachelor party at the Buy More.

And, oh, God, those photos.

She covered her eyes with her hand but, even in the darkness, she could see Devon, passed out, practically half naked with that... that... _other woman_ all over him.

Before she knew the extent of what had happened, she'd actually laughed when Casey had carried him inside, dropping him on the bed in their bedroom. She'd apologized for her future husband's behavior, and Casey had merely grunted.

She drew a ragged breath, moving into the kitchen, finally looking away from Devon.

She still loved him. But, nothing was getting easier. Things were only getting more difficult, more confusing. This wasn't how her life was supposed to be, was it?

The incessant whirring from the bike was starting to grate on her nerves. It wasn't helping her settle the unresolved matters in her head. Opening the refrigerator, she reached for a soda but changed her mind at the last minute, pulling out a beer bottle instead. The sun wasn't over the yardarm yet, necessarily, but it was close enough.

And, besides, popular culture insisted it was five o'clock somewhere.

The moment she stepped into the courtyard and closed the door behind her was the moment she felt a weight lift from her shoulders and the pain ease from her head. She shuffled slowly across the courtyard to the fountain, taking a seat on its edge.

She started to open her drink but didn't, setting it on the stone at her feet instead. She sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

* * *

"Diversification."

That was a very big word from one very small Nerd Herder. And it was entirely too big for a guy who'd been huffing a little too much chloroform. Jeff Barnes blinked. "Wha?"

"That's what we need, to bring Jeffster to the _forefront_ of the American music scene," Lester Patel said, speaking in excited but hushed tones. "It's not just about hit records anymore, Jeffrey. Oh, no. It's about marketing. It's about reaching out to your listeners in new, unique ways. It's about Jeffster action figures, comic books... Officially licensed products in a variety of stores, from your favorite record store to your favorite big box store... to your favorite Buy More."

"Ooh! Can I have karate-chopping kung-fu action?" Jeff asked before completing some rudimentary martial arts movements.

Lester pondered that for a moment. "Why not? All the better for you to destroy your hotel room with! I think children will dig it."

Jeff nodded, but then he shook his head. "Those are kinda lame, aren't they? I mean, they've been done a hundred times before. What about something else?"

Lester considered that. "Impress me, Jefferson. What do you suggest?"

"Perfume. Cologne."

"_Eau de Jeffster_?" Lester waggled his flat hand. "Again, kinda passé. For that matter, clothing lines, too. And shoes. Let's clear our heads, yes?" Off Jeff's nod, he continued: "When you think music, when you think the very _power_, the very _essence_ of Jeffster... what do you see?"

The two of them looked out to the distance, over the electronics portion of the Buy More, both in silent contemplation.

* * *

Casey, while eager to rid himself of a certain green polo shirt for a few hours, wasn't looking forward to the prep work required at Club Phoenix that night. All he really wanted was a night in, some cookies, a glass of scotch, and maybe an hour or two of the History Channel.

He walked with determination through the courtyard towards his apartment. He stopped, however, when he spotted a familiar brunette at the fountain. She was clearly in a haze, because she didn't seem to notice he was there. "Hey..." he said softly.

She turned, startled. "John."

"Lost in thought?" he asked.

"Caught me," she said, standing.

He noted the bottle at her feet, unopened and sweating in the warmth of the early afternoon. "What's up?" he asked knowingly.

"Just... lost in thought," she repeated.

He nodded slowly. He'd given her an opportunity to talk about it, and if she didn't want to, that was fine. "Okay," he told her. He moved again to his apartment.

Ellie lingered, torn between talking to him and not, between turning to someone for help and trying to figure it out on her own. Seeing him slide the key into his lock, however, she moved forward. "Can I talk to you for a minute or two?"

He turned to her, nodding. "Sure."

"Do you mind if we go inside?"

He hesitated, but how could he ever refuse her? "Okay." He entered first, and she followed behind with her beer bottle, not wanting to leave it unattended. He made sure that the curtains in the living room were open, and he purposefully sat her on his couch before taking his recliner. He knew he didn't have to ask, that she'd just start talking.

"Do you ever feel like you don't know someone? Like, at all?"

Casey inhaled slowly. "We're talking about Devon, aren't we?"

She nodded.

"What makes you say that? You've been married to him for almost a year. You've known him since med school, right?"

"Right," she acknowledged. "But, people change..."

"Sure."

"And Devon..." She closed her eyes. "Devon's getting better at lying to me. And I don't like it."

Casey sighed. Damned if they did, damned if they didn't. "What makes you think he's lying to you?"

"I can see it. I can see it in his eyes, John. He has this funny expression. Like he wants to make sure I'm buying it. He doesn't look away, he doesn't shy away. He doesn't make up some insanity about cats that turn into bears that he then decapitates with his bare hands. He changes the subject, he turns the tables on me. He's got all these new tricks of the trade, these tools to talk about anything but what I want to talk about. And it just reminds me of before we got married, before... before I thought I had broken him of this... this _habit_ of his getting his way every time there's ever a discussion. It feels like I can't win. Nothing I say matters. Nothing I ask is worthy of a response. Do you know what I mean?" she asked.

"You feel like you aren't being heard. That you're not important."

"Exactly!"

He closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face for a second. He wanted to tell her, to tell her the truth. He was sure Devon did, too. It would make things so much easier. There would be no more need for tiptoeing though conversations, through family meals. With everything in the open, with the truth finally out, it would be better, wouldn't it?

While he'd never been particularly fond of the CIA, he knew that there was an inscription at the headquarters in Langley, from the Bible--from the book of John, ironically enough. One of his mother's favorite scriptures. _And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free_.

He just wasn't sure it would help now. Not now. Not after three years of her brother lying to her, not after a year--for the entire length of their marriage--of her own husband lying to her.

"Ellie, I don't know how to help you," he said finally, looking up at her.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not sure you can help," she admitted. "And I don't mean to put you in this spot. It can't be an easy position to be in."

_If you only knew_, he thought bitterly.

"I just... I can't talk to Devon. And I feel like I can't talk to Chuck without it getting back to Devon, because they have this strange closeness. And I can't talk to Sarah, because she'd tell Chuck. And I can't talk to anyone at the hospital, because they know the both of us, y'know? And after the wedding, I'm not really sure where Dad went. And my mother... I have no idea where my mother is. So all I have..." She took a slow breath. "All I have is you. And, believe me, John, it's just nice to sit here and tell you this, just to get it out of my head, just to put it out there, somewhere, for someone else to see. And, the fact that you see, clearly, that there is some kind of problem, that's beneficial to me."

"It's... The fact that there is no solution, though, that's what I keep coming back to," he said. "My mother... My mother used to say, if there is no problem, there is no solution. The reverse would be true, if there is no solution, then, where's the problem?"

"It's... But, there is a problem, John. I just can't describe it adequately. There's _something_ that's wrong, between me and Devon."

"How do you fix it?" he challenged back.

"I don't know. Confront him about it? But, every time I do, he puts up these barriers, he just deflects."

"So, there's a solution that doesn't work. What else?"

"Short of talking to him, I really don't know. What else there is _to_ do?"

Casey couldn't believe he was about to offer this, but before he knew what was happening the words were out of his mouth and it was too late to take them back: "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Her smile was soft, but sad. "I appreciate the offer, John, but I don't know if that would do any better."

Relieved that he'd dodged the bullet, he said: "Well, we've ruled out verbal communication. What else is there? Written?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Short of taping it to the handlebars of the cardio-bike, I'm not sure he'd ever read it. Even then, he'd rather just talk to me about it. But, that puts us back at square one and I'm ready to pull my hair out."

"No verbal, no written communication..."

"Action," she said suddenly, vacantly.

"What?"

"The third kind of communication. The non-verbal, non-written kind. Action."

"What do you suggest doing?" he asked cautiously.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know. I mean, after the incident in San Francisco, after the hostage situation at the hospital, he was more considerate. For a little while. And then, it comes back. The weirdness, the awkwardness."

"Ellie, I don't..." He hesitated. "I don't want you to do anything you'd regret later," he said, his brain already trying to come up with potential ways to deescalate whatever measures she might be planning.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," she said, glancing at him. "I don't know what to do. I'm... I'm really going to have to think about it."

"Some free advice?" he asked.

She nodded.

"The guy loves you."

"I know."

"And it's clear that you love him in return."

She nodded again, absently playing with her wedding and engagement rings.

"Just remember that, before you make any decisions. Make sure that's at the center of your considerations."

"I will, John. Thanks."

He nodded, standing as she stood. "Anytime, Ellie. You know that."

She smiled a little at him, though he could see more sadness than happiness in her eyes.

It broke his heart to see it.

"Dinner, Sunday night. You know your presence is required."

"I'll be there. I promise."

* * *

Chuck watched Casey from across the surveillance van parked down the street from the trendy night spot, Club Phoenix. It was curious to the younger agent, noting well that the lines in the NSA killer's forehead were more pronounced than usual.

"What is it?"

Casey glanced over. "What?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking about."

Casey grunted, shaking his head.

"Oh, c'mon, now. Just two guys, chillin' in a nondescript black van in the middle of downtown L.A. What's up?"

Casey would much rather be having this conversation with Sarah, but seeing as how she was inside at the moment, there was little he could do to rectify that. "You wanna keep track of what you're supposed to be keeping track of?"

Chuck sighed, deflating somewhat. "I'm watching everybody in the club. I'm not flashing on anybody. No Catalyst. No Donovan Hathaway for that matter. Either they're confident that they don't need to do homework or they didn't wait till the last minute to try to get it done like we did."

"We just intercepted the intel. We do what we can as soon as we learn it."

Silence fell over the van again. The only occasional chatter they heard was Sarah, talking with the various bartenders, to see who was working the next night. Because, in reality, they'd be taking a sick day so Casey could fill in from a temp agency.

Chuck couldn't stand the quiet. "What do you think the weapon is?"

Casey turned to glance at Chuck. "Since when do you care? It's hard enough trying to get you on the gun range."

"Can't we just shoot the breeze?"

"Only if it involves real bullets."

Chuck sighed.

"Sarah's deploying poison."

Chuck glanced over Casey's shoulder, at the screen in front of the Marine, as Sarah casually removed a compact from her purse. She sat sideways on her stool, so that when she opened it, the compact ejected a small projectile at her target: the bartender with the nose ring.

It barely registered with the bartender, the tiny injection on his bare arm. He'd probably do something inadvertently to knock it off. Much like the stinger left over from a bee, it would be practically undetectable.

Sarah placed a crisp bill on the bar for her tab, smiled at the bartender, and slid off the stool.

"Mission accomplished?" Chuck asked.

"Don't get cocky, Bartowski. We have a long night ahead of us tomorrow," Casey reminded him.

"You really are Susie Sunshine today, aren't'cha?"

Casey grunted.

"No, I'm serious. You're more down than normal. What is with you, big guy?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and snark.

Chuck sighed. "Y'know, you make it very hard for anyone to feel anything but contempt for you sometimes."

If Chuck hadn't realized by now that it was intentional, Casey rationed he never would. He merely grunted, getting back to work.

Chuck was sitting in the back with his arms crossed over his chest as Sarah reentered.

She took one look at Chuck's annoyed look and Casey's indifference and almost backed out of the van. Instead, she sighed. "What's going on?"

Chuck immediately pointed at Casey. "He won't say!"

"Casey..."

Her partner rolled his eyes as he climbed behind the wheel of the van.

She shrugged, looking at Chuck.

"That's not normal Casey behavior," he told her. "I mean, sure, it _looks_ like normal Casey behavior, but it's not. It's like... he's depressed or something. Don't you guys have, like, shrinks or something? Mandatory couch sessions?"

"I'll talk to him later."

"But..." Chuck sighed.

"What?" Sarah asked gently, removing her pin-camera from her jacket, sliding it back into its case.

"But, I wanna know what's bugging him," he admitted quietly.

Sarah smiled softly, releasing her hair from its bun, running her fingers through the long blonde tresses. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe you're just reading too much into this."

"I really don't think I am," Chuck said. "I really think there's something wrong with Casey."

"I'll talk to him," she said again.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Chuck asked hopefully.

Sarah smiled. "We'll see."

* * *

She saw the blonde clearly entering the back of the van. Then there was the figure in the back, completely hidden. She could just make out his shadowy form. She saw movement, watching as someone slid behind the wheel. She couldn't see his face, not until the surveillance van pulled away from the curb and beneath a streetlight.

She made sure she remembered his features. The strong jaw, the cheekbones, the nose.

She had a feeling she'd see them again.

She smiled to herself.

* * *

Devon watched as Ellie set the table for dinner. Everything was perfect, as usual. Even though she was just home for a brief break from the hospital, dinner was a particular affair. She adjusted his water glass after she'd set it, clearly unhappy with something, before straightening the placement of the silverware in conjunction with the plate and napkin. He couldn't tell what was wrong. It looked just fine to him.

But she was meticulous. She liked to be precise. He did, too, in medicine, in his various and sundry sporting interests. But dinner settings? Was it really so important to have the spoon exactly parallel with the knife?

She glanced up, meeting his eyes. He looked away quickly, missing out on the frown that took to her mouth as he did so. He hadn't meant to be caught. After a moment, he looked back at her again. Her posture was different, slightly sullen, but it wasn't enough of a change for him to notice.

"Looks awesome, babe," he managed.

She merely nodded.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"I think she knows."

Chuck's head nearly wrenched off his neck as he looked back at Devon. "You think she knows what? What could she possibly know? I mean, c'mon, this is Ellie we're talking about..."

"I think she knows something's wrong. The way she looks at me anymore, it's like... it's like a visual lobotomy. Like she's trying to peel away the layers of my brain, to see what I'm hiding. I don't know where else I have to hide information up here," he said, rubbing at his forehead.

"The important thing to remember, here, Devon, is that... is that Ellie is... Ellie is a smart cookie. And a tough cookie. But, mostly, Ellie's a cookie. Y'know, a little flaky, a little crumbly, but sweet, through and through. And there's no... there's no way she could know anything about... any of this that we know about. Y'know?"


	3. Chapter 2

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Team Bartowski is tasked to stop an arms deal, between one Donovan Hathaway and Catalyst, a Ring agent. Ellie takes the time to ponder Awesome. Jeffster is looking for ways to branch out. Casey takes a few moments to talk with Ellie, who confesses that her pondering has led her to the conclusion that she's not sure Devon is still the Devon she remembers. Team Bartowski works on prep at Club Phoenix for the next day.

* * *

Casey moved methodically through the Castle. He had already arranged to pick up a spare bartender uniform from the supplier in the morning. They'd gone over the floor plans a hundred times. They each knew the information forward and backwards, inside and out. It would all come in handy, because there was no telling if the weapon exchange was taking place at the club, or if it was just an initial meeting, a sussing out of the character of the other.

They could plan for the worst. If there was one thing Casey liked having, it was a well thought out mission, something that took into account every conceivable possibility, which was why he was loading up various supplies. Spare audio and visual surveillance equipment, extra ammunition, extra weaponry.

He knew that Chuck and Sarah were still around, talking quietly, pretending to go over the schematics again. He let them. What kind of a spy would he be if he tipped his hand every chance he got, after all?

A few keywords had floated to his ears. He knew he was the topic of conversation. He hoped that Sarah was doing her best to throw Chuck from the scent. After all, this wasn't something that needed to be discussed, not with another Bartowski.

"Just go on, Chuck. I'll call you when I'm on my way home," Sarah promised.

Chuck glanced at Casey, who was impassively loading a black duffel bag. He finally nodded. "All right. G'night, Sarah."

"See you tomorrow," she said softly.

"Later, big guy!" Chuck announced as he headed for the stairs.

Casey merely grunted.

For several minutes after Chuck had left, Casey and Sarah worked in silence, checking the equipment, loading the gear.

Sarah finally moved to a computer terminal, pulling up the footage from the Orange Orange dining room. "He's gone," she said.

Casey glanced up.

"How's Ellie?" Sarah asked, resting a hand on her hip.

Casey shook his head. "Either we trained Woodcomb too well or we still haven't trained him enough."

"So, teaching Awesome to be 'awesome' has backfired. What's Plan B?"

"I'm open to suggestion."

"Mr. Contingency over here doesn't have a backup plan?"

"Not when it comes to Ellie, no."

Sarah sighed. "If we undo everything we've done with him over the past two months, since the hospital incident, then we'll break his confidence. And it took forever to build it up in the first place."

"Doesn't matter. It doesn't work, whether he's good at the lies or bad at them. She can tell."

"How can she tell his but not ours?" Sarah asked.

"You're not living with her, Walker. You don't see her on a daily basis."

"Still, she's coming to you a lot these days," Sarah commented as innocently as she could.

Casey'd known this conversation would eventually come up. He'd seen it coming from miles away. "What are you implying?" he asked.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm merely stating an observation."

Observation, his ass. "Why would a guy work so hard to get her marriage back on track if there was something going on?"

"Same basic principal I taught Devon. _Deflection_."

"I'm not deflecting anything. There's nothing to deflect."

"She's not a beautiful woman?"

"That's certainly an observation that's hard to miss," Casey began. He had eyes, after all. "But, that's as far as it goes. My job, as a spy, is to be aware of my surroundings, to be aware of what's going on around me."

"As is mine. Which is why I have to ask... has she become a distraction? Has she become an issue?"

"Why would she be either of those things?" Casey asked.

"You tell me."

"Well, she's not."

"You're sure?" Sarah pressed.

"I'm sure," he told her.

Sarah watched her partner for a long few minutes, finally nodding. "Okay," she said softly.

* * *

Morning at the Buy More was probably the best time to work. With the exception of Black Friday, the customers didn't line up outside, waiting for the store to open. They waited until their lunch breaks to run errands, until after work, or until they woke up. It was the perfect time for plotting, for thinking.

It was the perfect time for Jeff to show Lester his prototype. "Check it out," Jeff said proudly. "Playing cards. Only, instead of the suit of hearts, we have the key-tar. Instead of clubs, the microphone. Diamonds can stay 'cause they're like the sparkle in your eyes. And the spades. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It's the coolest suit in the deck."

Lester flipped through the cards. Once he got to the face cards, however, he had to pause. "You plastered me onto all the queens?"

"Y'know. In honor of your awesome Fat-Bottomed Girls rendition. Freddie Mercury would be _so_ proud."

Lester sighed, offering Jeff back his deck. "I'm not sure this is the persona that I want the world to see of me, Lester Patel, hard-core rocker. Y'know? A for effort, Jeff, really, but... we can do better."

Jeff nodded. "But, we could play with these on poker night here at the Buy More, couldn't we?"

"We'll see."

* * *

She sat on one of the chairs in the courtyard, her bare feet up on a planter. She'd discarded her flip flops beneath her seat. Her fingers were wrapped around a steaming mug and she stared at the fountain. She could almost pretend it was some babbling brook if she closed her eyes, and that she was stretched out on its banks. Somewhere peaceful, somewhere safe.

And then there was that warm voice. "We've really got to stop meeting like this..."

She looked up, somewhat sheepishly, at Casey, who was dressed for the day in his khaki slacks and green polo. "Morning."

"Seriously," he said, lowering his voice. "You're starting to worry me, out here by yourself, not paying attention to your surroundings. I can't always be here..."

"I'll do better," she promised.

"Still thinking about what we talked about yesterday?"

She nodded.

He hooked his fingers onto his belt. "Making any progress?"

"Well, the headache is still sort of dull and throbbing. It hasn't moved to the migraine status yet."

He smiled a little and she, in spite of herself, returned it.

"Off to the Buy More?"

"Another exciting day of moving large appliances," he said. "You're working second?"

She nodded. "But, I'm off this weekend, then back to day shift, which is good."

He worried about her less when she worked during more normal hours.

Chuck and Morgan spilled into the courtyard, both yammering about the finer points of Vulcan diplomacy.

Casey couldn't prevent a groan, which made Ellie giggle, which, in turn, caught the attention of both geeks.

"Hey, guys," Chuck said, an awkward look on his face. Not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. "How are we this morning?"

"We're fine," Ellie answered without thinking.

Chuck glanced from his sister, to Casey, back to his sister. "Okay, well, that's good. We've got to go to work. All three of us guys. Because, that's what we do. We work at the Buy More. Slaving away for the man, y'know... working hard."

"Or, hardly working, as the case may be," added Morgan.

"You guys have a great day," Ellie said, glancing at each of them.

Casey and Morgan headed for the parking lot, but Chuck lingered.

"Are you okay, sis?"

She watched her brother as he sat down beside her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Just, y'know... you've always been there for me. I wanted to make sure you knew I would return the favor. No matter what."

She reached out, placing a hand on Chuck's arm. "I know."

"So, anything you want to talk about?"

She shook her head.

"Just 'cause... I mean, I know you may _think _that Casey is a teddy bear, but... believe me when I tell you... he's not," he said quietly, seriously.

Ellie narrowed her eyes slightly. Did Chuck know? Surely not. Rather than speculate, she focused on what she knew for certain. She knew that Casey was more than adequate with a gun, that he was stronger than anyone else she knew. Of that, she was _certain_. "I know," she said.

"Ellie, I really..." He paused. "Okay."

"He's a friend. He's your friend, isn't he?" Ellie asked, sliding her feet back into her sandals.

"Well, yeah... I just want you to be very careful, with what you know and what you _think_ you know..."

She eyed her brother suspiciously. "Okay..."

"Okay," Chuck said. "I gotta go to work, but I'll see you later."

Ellie sighed, watching her brother walk away. It only helped to solidify her concerns, that Chuck and Devon were up to something and that Casey was the only male voice of reason within the entirety of Echo Park.

* * *

Chuck tinkered with a laptop at the Nerd Herd desk. His heart just wasn't in it. Whatever it was that was going around, and there was something definitely amiss in his world, it was distracting. He didn't know why every time he turned around, Ellie seemed to be standing with Casey. Maybe it was his imagination.

He nearly dropped the laptop, however, when Devon spoke: "Hey, bro."

"Jeez! Devon! Don't you know not to sneak up on a guy doing... RAM-replacement surgery?" he asked, setting the computer carefully on the desk.

"Sorry. Say, um... You got a second?"

Chuck could see something was troubling Devon. His brother-in-law's awesome face held an expression that was definitely _not_ awesome. "Yeah, buddy, what's up?"

"Your sister..."

Chuck glanced casually towards large appliances, spotting Casey working with a customer. "Yeah?"

"I think she knows."

Chuck's head nearly wrenched off his neck as he looked back at Devon. "You think she knows what? What could she possibly know? I mean, c'mon, this is Ellie we're talking about..."

"I think she knows something's wrong. The way she looks at me anymore, it's like... it's like a visual lobotomy. Like she's trying to peel away the layers of my brain, to see what I'm hiding. I don't know where else I have to hide information up here," he said, rubbing at his forehead.

"The important thing to remember, here, Devon, is that... is that Ellie is... Ellie is a smart cookie. And a tough cookie. But, mostly, Ellie's a cookie. Y'know, a little flaky, a little crumbly, but sweet, through and through. And there's no... there's no way she could know anything about... any of this that we know about. Y'know?"

Devon nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. "Okay. So long as the lessons I got from you and Sarah are still working because it's been... it's been difficult."

"Well, everything... everything is a process, definitely. Y'know. One day at a time, that's all you can do."

Before Chuck could say anything further, or Devon could respond, Lester and Jeff approached. "Charles... Devonshire... Might I have a moment of your time?"

"Uh... Sure, little guy, what's up?" Devon asked.

"What says 'music' to the two of you? Play-doh play sets or--" began Lester.

"Or energy fruit drinks?" Jeff asked enthusiastically, cutting off his friend and band-mate. "Pre-mixed with my secret recipe of Prison Punch, of course." Jeff nudged Devon with his elbow then stage-whispered: "It's alcoholic."

Devon and Chuck looked at each other slowly in disbelief.

* * *

Ellie lingered in the parking lot by her car, scanning the roads for what she knew would be an incoming late-model, black Crown Victoria. She didn't have to wait long, watching as it pulled into its customary spot, just down from hers.

Casey emerged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing the plastic-covered, dry-cleaned bartender uniform.

She moved towards him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "John..."

"Ellie," he returned. It was clearly written across her face that there was something she wanted to talk about.

"Do you have a minute?"

"I have a mission," he told her as gently as he could.

"It won't take long."

He nodded back to the apartment complex. "C'mon." He might regret his decision later, but that was later, and this was now.

She fell into step with him silently, still pondering what to say exactly, how to spit it out, what she needed to say.

"Did something happen?" he asked, juggling the uniform to unlock his apartment.

"Not exactly," she answered.

"Sounds like something..." As the door swung open, he let her walk in first.

"Chuck and I had a very strange conversation," she admitted.

"About what?" he asked, dropping his backpack by the door.

"About you."

Casey sighed. "Okay."

"And I can't help but think it's all related back to Devon."

It was related to everyone. Everything was inter-related. If he'd had it to do all over again, he'd have hit Devon with a tranq, preventing this whole mess from happening. "Ellie, I know that this... that what I've asked you to do has made your life... more difficult than it should be."

"You haven't asked me to do anything outside the scope of what I do on a daily basis for hundreds of others who wander into Westside Medical."

"But, I didn't wander into Westside Medical. I wandered into the Grand Hotel in San Francisco, under false pretenses. Under an alias."

"But, if you hadn't been there, there's no telling what would've happened to me."

Casey thought back. That was true. In fact, he knew exactly who to blame for this whole mess. _Bryce Larkin_. He wasn't fond of speaking ill of the dead, particularly former patriots, but there were some questionable moments in Larkin's career, including when he stole the Intersect and sent it to Chuck in the first place. "Maybe we need to reconsider our arrangement."

"And how would we go about doing that, exactly?"

"We... we stop talking."

She looked up at him slowly, with those wide hazel eyes. "John..." she breathed, as though he'd knocked the wind out of her.

"Chuck and Devon, they're you're family. As much as I..." He paused. "As much as I value your company, I'm just the hired gun next door." He shrugged. "I'm okay with that."

She watched his eyes. She could see the defenses come up. It wasn't a simple brick-by-brick wall like Devon. It was worse than that. It was a real no-man's land, filled with razor wire, with landmines. She didn't want to believe Chuck had been right. She couldn't. "No, John, I know you... I know what you're capable of..."

"I'm an _assassin_, Ellie. That's my skill set."

"Who are you here to kill?" she challenged.

He looked away from her, shaking his head.

"Because you're not here to kill someone. Not now."

He looked back at her, his eyes harsh. "You don't know that for certain."

"Why are you doing this? You're the _only _person I can talk to!"

"Last census put the Los Angeles population over three million. I'm sure there's someone, in all of L.A., that would lend an ear."

"Yeah. Until two seconds ago, it was _you_!"

"I'm not your husband. Or your brother."

"You're..." She paused.

He looked at her, waiting for something. He wasn't exactly a friend, was he? Their friendship was built on ten kinds of quicksand. He'd lied to her since he'd met her. His mini-quiches she'd raved about had been laced with microbots, trackers. Even this, their relationship, if it could be described as such, was only that way because he was making her keep a secret. He was making her keep a secret from people who already knew it.

She tried again: "John, you're..."

Nothing was following. Because, clearly, that was what he was. "I need to prepare for a mission," he said, his voice low, strained. "You have the hospital to get to."

"We're not through with this conversation," she told him.

"Pretty sure we are." He could see the tears building in her eyes and he felt worse than he'd felt in a good, long while.

Ellie turned, wordlessly letting herself back out of his apartment.

Casey flinched as the door slammed.

* * *

Chuck grinned as Casey emerged into the courtyard, dressed for the evening's events. He playfully whistled. "Wow, buddy. Do bartenders ever get good uniforms?"

If looks could kill, Chuck would've been six feet under at the foot of the fountain.

He held his hands up in surrender. "Easy, big guy, easy. What's with you today?"

Casey grunted, moving towards the waiting SUV.

Chuck, not about to be left behind, followed, in his sleek black tux, a baby blue shirt, and his favorite black Converse sneakers.

Sarah sat behind the wheel, in a ruby-red party dress that hugged all the right curves. She could tell that Casey was in a foul mood, more so than usual.

"Shot..." began Chuck, drifting off when he saw Casey climb into the front passenger seat. "Gun," he finished quietly, sliding in the back.

"Everybody okay?" Sarah asked diplomatically.

Neither responded.

"Chuck?"

"Peachy," he said, nodding subtly at the NSA agent through the rear view mirror.

"Casey?" she asked, looking at her partner.

Casey said nothing.

Sarah looked back at Chuck, who shrugged.

* * *

Ellie leaned against the nurse's station, staring down into the dark depths of her coffee. Maybe there was something in the water, something that turned all of the men she knew into completely different people after a certain period of time. They were all different. Devon. Chuck. Morgan. And now Casey.

She glanced up, however, when she made a startling revelation.

What if they weren't the ones who were different?

What if it was her?

How could she have changed in the past few years? How could that have happened without her noticing? How could that have happened without her being cognizant of something being different? She was so certain she'd remained constant, rock steady.

But, maybe she hadn't. Maybe that was why Chuck went to Devon. Maybe that was why Devon went to Chuck.

Her thoughts drifted back to Casey, to his question. What was he to her? A confidant. That didn't encompass enough. A friend? He was more than that.

And he'd pushed her away, just like Chuck, just like Devon.

She was going to have to find a way to fix this, somehow.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Do you see him?" Sarah asked.

Chuck shook his head.

"He can't have gone far."

Chuck moved to stand on the table. One black Chuck Taylor followed by the other. His eyes scanned the entirety of the club, desperate for some sign of Casey. "C'mon, big guy," he muttered. "C'mon, big guy..."

It was sudden, jarring, the sound of a gunshot.

He'd seen Casey do many things that were seemingly impossible. Hell, they'd jumped off a building together, not necessarily intentionally, and landed, safely, in a swimming pool below while tied to each others' backs. He knew that Casey was practically Kryptonian.

Seeing him fall back to the ground, seeing the thick, red blood seep from his chest, Chuck grew lightheaded.

"Casey?" Sarah asked breathlessly.


	4. Chapter 3

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Sarah asks Casey if Ellie is an issue for him. Ellie remains distracted about her relationship with Devon, to the point where Casey's worried about her safety, and Chuck is worried about her reliance on Casey. Devon's got his concerns as well. Ellie and Casey have a disagreement, of sorts, and Ellie leaves in a huff. At work, she starts to think that, instead of everyone else around her changing, maybe she's the one who's different.

* * *

The redhead's smile was almost bashful as she slid up to the bar. Casey had to lean over to hear her give the orders. Her breath was warm against his ear as she told him she needed two martinis for a certain couple near the dance floor.

"Aren't they cute?" she asked, pointing towards Chuck and Sarah.

He smiled a little. They were, he had to admit. "Yeah, I guess."

She idly waited, moving to the hypnotic beat from the music pumping through the club.

Casey quickly fixed martinis, adding the requisite number of olives to each before handing them back to her.

She smiled, winking at him and not for the first time since he'd started his shift.

It wasn't new, getting hit on during his cover at a bar. It was new that it wasn't a drunken woman in her forties. If he had to guess, he'd say she was in her twenties. And, for him to be watching her walk away, he had to be a lecherous old man. He shook his head.

Of all the restaurants, all the bars, all the clubs they'd worked in within the past year, this one had to take the cake. The noise levels alone should've been enough to shut down the place. Maybe tomorrow, he'd place an anonymous call to the police, have them come out to check their decibel levels.

A voice was soon in his ear, from a certain geek. "Dude, my martini is too dry."

Casey rolled his eyes.

Chuck grinned at him.

"Eyes on the prize, Bartowski," Casey radioed back.

"I'm not seeing Hathaway at all. And the lighting in here? It's terrible. How am I supposed to figure out who this Catalyst is when I'm moving in slow motion?" he asked with a smile before moving with exaggeratedly slow movements to stand with Sarah.

"Keep the Intersect in line, would you, Walker?" Casey asked.

* * *

"C'mon, Chuck, dance with me," Sarah said. "Maybe we'll have better luck in the thick of things." She accepted the hand that Chuck offered, walking with her to the middle of the packed dance floor.

"Seriously, Sarah, is something up with Casey?"

"Nothing you should worry about, not right now," Sarah told him.

"But it's something in the future I should be concerned with?"

"Let's get through tonight first, huh?"

Chuck nodded, doing his best to boogie and find the bad guys. He just wasn't having any luck. They danced towards anyone who seemed to fit Hathaway's description, no matter how remote. And Catalyst... Well, Catalyst was just a shot in the dark. There was no way to tell who he was.

Sarah sighed once the song ended, lifting her watch to her mouth. "Any hints from the bar, Casey?"

Chuck frowned. All of their transmitters and receivers were connected. Anything Sarah said into her watch, he should've been able to hear in his earpiece. But, he didn't get the normal echoing sensation.

Both frantically turned to the bar, but they didn't see Casey. So as not to lose Chuck, too, Sarah grabbed a hold of his hand, moving back towards their table, towards where they'd abandoned their barely-touched martinis.

"Do you see him?" Sarah asked.

Chuck shook his head.

"He can't have gone far."

Chuck moved to stand on the table. One black Chuck Taylor followed by the other. His eyes scanned the entirety of the club, desperate for some sign of Casey. "C'mon, big guy," he muttered. "C'mon, big guy..."

It was sudden, jarring, the sound of a gunshot.

He'd seen Casey do many things that were seemingly impossible. Hell, they'd jumped off a building together, not necessarily intentionally, and landed, safely, in a swimming pool below while tied to each others' backs. He knew that Casey was practically Kryptonian.

Seeing him fall back to the ground, seeing the thick, red blood seep from his chest, Chuck grew lightheaded.

"Casey?" Sarah asked breathlessly.

* * *

Chuck rode in the back of the ambulance with Casey, who had lost consciousness about the time the paramedics arrived on scene. He was covered in blood, in Casey's blood, sitting numbly, watching the paramedics flit back and forth over his fallen friend.

He'd tried to answer questions about what had happened, about what he knew of Casey's medical history. The only thing he could remember, the only thing that came to mind was the big guy's blood type. While information on Casey was in the Intersect, he couldn't access it. He couldn't pull up the personnel file. He couldn't tell them anything else.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chuck watched as Casey was immediately wheeled into the triage room. An army of doctors and nurses descended upon him, cutting away his clothes, taking off his ring, his watch.

Chuck slowly climbed out of the back of the ambulance, landing on unsteady knees.

One of the admittance clerks, a thin, willowy woman named Donna, came to get him, but paused when she recognized him. "Chuck?"

He glanced over, clearly in shock.

She smiled softly at him. "C'mon, Chuck, let's sit down," she said, pulling him away from the triage room.

* * *

Sarah descended into the Castle, her emotions in complete flux. She'd given chase, following the shooter for nearly two miles even after the shooter jumped into a car. She'd tried desperately to shoot out the tires. She'd remembered the license tag, but it had been so clean, clear and easy to read, she was certain it was a decoy, a throw-away plate.

She moved towards the computer terminals at the front of the room, entering her agency password and her emergency clearance codes.

"Agent... Walker?" Beckman asked as she came into frame on the large flat-panel screen. She was still in her uniform. Her glasses were low on her nose, and she held a report in her hands.

"Ma'am," she said, her voice breaking.

Beckman closed the file, removing her glasses. "Take a breath," the General said in as close to comforting as she was capable of getting. Once Sarah had inhaled slowly but shallowly, she continued: "Where are Chuck and Casey?"

"Chuck's last text was that he was traveling with Casey to the hospital. Ma'am, he was... he was shot."

"The Intersect?"

Sarah shook her head. "The Colonel."

Beckman slowly sat down at her desk.

* * *

Ellie did everything she could for her patient, stabilizing him for surgery. As he was wheeled out of the room, she finally looked somewhere other than his chest. There was a mass of scar tissue on his upper right arm. Scar tissue she'd seen before.

Her hazel eyes landed on the dark hair, on another familiar scar, a dimpled one on his cheek. "J-John...?"

Her heart beat loudly in her ears as her stomach dropped to her toes. She felt her world coming to a screeching halt.

"_JOHN!_" she cried out in pure agony.

She tried to put one foot in front of the other, to follow him to the operating suites, but when she took the first step, she nearly fell.

"Whoa, hey, Ellie," said Scott Harris, one of her fellow ER doctors. He reached out to steady her. Not that long ago, he'd survived a hellish night with her, held captive in that very same triage room. "What's..."

She looked up at him, trembling violently from head to toe. She opened her mouth, to try to say something, but couldn't. She could feel the sticky blood even through her gloves. Looking at her scrubs, there were splotches there, too. Casey's blood. She was covered in it.

"Let's get you outta here, huh?" he said, trying to pull her from the room as it was cleaned for its next patient.

"John... It was John," she muttered.

"John. Okay. Who's John?"

"John!" she said again, as if that would answer any and all questions, as if there could be only one.

"Ellie, c'mon, this is Scotty you're talking to," he said gently. "I got a mind like a butterfly net."

"_John_," she said. "_My_ John! The one who came to rescue us."

"You're going into shock, sweetie, let's get you to the doctor's lounge and we'll call Devon, all right?" he said, pulling her out of the triage room.

* * *

Chuck grimaced, hearing his sister cry out for Casey. He hadn't heard her scream like that ever, he was certain. And he'd heard all kinds of different ways that Ellie could scream and fuss and carry on. He'd heard the "mean mom" voice, the "annoyed big sister" voice. He'd heard the "serious doctor" voice. He liked especially the "normal Ellie" voice. But this, what he heard now... That was heartbreak. That was despair. That was undeniable anguish.

"That sounded like Ellie," Donna said, alarmed.

Chuck could only nod.

"You want to see her?"

Vehemently, he shook his head.

"But..."

"I can't see her right now, I... I have to call... I have to call people. Where... where is Casey now?"

Hitting a few keystrokes on her computer, she pulled up Casey's information. "He's in surgery. It'll... it'll be a while," she said, glancing back at him.

"I have... I have people I need to call," he said again, slowly getting to his feet. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Chuck," Donna said as gently as she could.

He looked from her, to his phone. "Oh. Oh, right, sorry, I..." He pointed towards the door. "I'll go outside."

Vacantly, he moved out into the nighttime air. It was stifling, oppressive. He'd give anything for a cool breeze. He called Sarah first.

"Chuck?"

"Hey, Sarah, he's... he's in surgery now," he said, leaning against the exterior of the building.

"Keep me posted, Chuck. I've got to get back. I'm going to find his shooter."

"Do you need help?"

"I need somebody there to give me updates about his health."

He could sense the unspoken words: _because, if he dies on the operating table, then the shooter becomes a murderer, someone who killed a federal agent._ "Yeah, okay," he managed. "They... they took us to Westside. Ellie..."

"You definitely need to stay, then," Sarah said.

"What?"

"Just stay put, Chuck. Keep me posted."

"Yeah, okay," he said, realizing he was now talking to no one, as she'd already hung up.

He tapped his phone against his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment.

Opening them again, he found Devon's number through his watery, blurred vision. He exhaled, watching the traffic ease around the hospital. He listened to the rings.

"Hey, bro," Devon answered cheerfully.

Chuck opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. _Talk dammit, _he chided himself.

"Chuck?"

"H-hey, Devon," he managed.

"You all right?"

"Yes." He was physically. Emotionally, not so much. "No. It's Casey..."

"What about him?"

"He's... I..." If he said it out loud, to someone else, it became real. Right now, it wasn't real. Right now, it was all just a figment of his imagination.

"You're scaring me a little bit, here, buddy," Devon admitted.

"You need to come to Westside," Chuck finally managed.

"The hospital? Why?"

"Be-because..." He cleared his throat. "Because Casey's been..." He was going to throw up. "Because Casey's been shot," he managed, fighting the bile that was threatening to escape. There was silence on the other end of the line and Chuck wondered if Devon had hung up on him, too.

"Chuck," Devon breathed.

"What's worse... Ellie... I think Ellie was his ER doc."

"I'll be right there, bro."

"Hey, Devon?"

"Yeah?" he asked, clearly distracted as he got ready to leave.

"Grab Morgan, yeah?"

"We're on our way," he said. "Hang tough, bro."

* * *

Morgan was in the process of fixing dinner when he heard the thundering knock on his door. He juggled the soy sauce, careful not to spill a drop. "Jeez. Coming! Be right there," he said, maneuvering from the kitchen, through the living room to the front door. He was surprised to see Devon. "Hey, Cap'n. What's--"

Devon grabbed him, pulling him out with him. "We gotta go."

"What? Where? I was making dinner!"

"Westside. John Casey's been shot."

"John... John Casey? _That_ John Casey?" he said, pointing at the apartment across the courtyard.

"You coming or not, bro?"

Morgan tossed his apron back inside, and managed to lock the door before following Devon's run to the parking lot.

* * *

Ellie was relieved of further duties for the night. She wouldn't have been able to wield a scalpel even if she'd wanted to. She'd used every trick in the book she knew to keep Casey alive, to keep him breathing, to prepare him for surgery.

In clean scrubs, wrapped up in a sweater, she moved towards the waiting room, to see who had come in with him. Because someone had to have known Casey's blood type.

She scanned the faces in the waiting room. His companion had to be as troubled as she was. Of the people she saw, there were some who were upset, but not to the degree she was upset. There were some people who looked lost, but not to the degree she was lost. There were some that looked scared, but not to the degree she was scared.

When the doors opened from the exterior, when three men all entered, it became clear.

Her brother looked just as rattled, just as petrified. And his suit... His suit was covered with bloodstains.

Ellie pulled her sweater around her tighter.

Chuck moved forward, leading the way towards his sister.

"You want to tell me what the _hell_ happened?" Ellie asked, struggling to keep her voice in check.

"We need to talk somewhere other than here," Chuck said.

"I know a place. C'mon," Devon said, taking the lead. He tried to wrap his arms around Ellie but she backed away.

She didn't want to be touched. By anyone. She'd just been practically elbow-deep in Casey's insides for crying out loud.

Chuck and Devon exchanged glances, but off a nod from Chuck, Devon led the way into the hospital further, into a quiet office, not far from the operating suites.

Ellie stood, watching each of them, waiting for them to say something. Waiting for the answers to come, waiting for enlightenment.

Chuck looked at his hands, at the dried blood still beneath his fingernails. "What is said in this room stays in this room."

Ellie looked from Chuck to Devon and Morgan, noting well all of their guilty, nervous expressions. "Chuck..."

"Right hands up, c'mon. Nothing said here goes any further..."

Morgan and Devon lifted theirs. Ellie just stared at him.

"Good enough," Chuck said. "Ellie, I know... that you _think_ you know... everything."

Her eyebrows slowly drifted up her forehead.

"I know that you know about Casey," Chuck said.

Devon and Morgan exchanged quick looks before they both turned their attention to Ellie.

"El, babe," Devon said, deflated.

Chuck continued. "I know that you know he's a Marine. That he's NSA."

Ellie could see that this was not news to any of the rest of them. "What, you're going to tell me that you're some kind of spy, too?"

Chuck halfway shrugged.

Ellie began shaking her head.

"Hear him out, babe," Devon said, again trying to reach out to her and again being rebuffed.

"Casey went to protect you in San Francisco because of me," Chuck said, unable to look at her. "Casey went to protect you because someone was trying to use you to get to me."

"Why would anyone do that?" Ellie asked, her voice strained.

"Because I'm very good at what I do," he said, looking up at her finally.

She looked from Chuck to Devon and Morgan. This clearly wasn't news to them. "So I'm the last one to know?"

"El, it was... It was never supposed to be quite like this. Me telling you this..." Chuck shook his head. "I've probably just ensured all of you go into witness protection, that I'll never see any of you again."

"How long has this been going on?" Ellie asked. "Since John moved in? Three years?"

"Yeah, there about," he said quietly.

"And how long have you two known?" she asked, looking just at Devon.

Devon winced. "'Bout a year. When did you find out?"

Ellie didn't answer.

"C'mon, babe..."

"It's doctor-patient confidentiality, Devon, you know I can't say."

"You didn't find out just now, though," Morgan said. "Did you?"

"She's known since San Francisco," Chuck said. "I've read the mission reports."

"You've known longer than I have," Morgan said, trying to be helpful.

She realized that all of her initial observations had been correct. She hadn't been the one to change, they had. All of them. And they had been keeping things from her, the _truth_. She'd been kept in the dark, intentionally. Never mind that it was national security. If it was national security, then why did Devon have to know? Why did Morgan?

As Chuck's cell phone rang, he sighed. Seeing Sarah's face on the caller ID, he said: "I have to take this."

Devon clapped Chuck's shoulder. "We'll give you some space, bro," he said, before herding Morgan out. Ellie followed distantly. Once in the hallway, Devon looked at Morgan. "You wanna see how the coffee situation is looking? I think we're all going to have a long night."

"On it," Morgan said, heading off towards the nearest pot.

Devon looked at Ellie. "Sweetheart..."

"Chuck's my brother. How come you get to know first?"

"It was an accident, believe me. I thought Casey was..." He shook his head. "Never mind that, but I went to confront Casey and wound up setting off this... _insane _alarm at his place, and then... then Chuck told me what was really happening."

"He just told you?"

Devon nodded. "What happened in San Francisco?"

"I had to take care of a patient who'd been injured. Anything revealed to me then continues to fall under doctor-patient confidentiality, of which I am honor-bound not to speak of."

"Ellie, c'mon. We both know; we both can talk about this now."

She looked up at him, a darkness in her eyes. "You don't want me to say what I'm really thinking right now. I think it would be best if you left me alone for a little while."

He sighed heavily, slowly nodding.

Ellie walked off, down the corridor, back towards the operating suites. She lingered for a moment outside the operating room, watching through the window. There wasn't much to see. Most of Casey was blocked, either by the surgical team or curtains. But it was clear that the doctors were doing their jobs, to the best of their abilities. If anyone could save him, it would be them.

Swallowing back the growing lump in her throat, she headed towards the ER admitting desk.

Donna looked up at her. "Are you okay, Ellie?"

Ellie sniffled. "Do you have John Casey's belongings?"

The clerk hesitated, but offered Ellie the bag.

"Thanks," she murmured, heading towards the doctor's lounge. It was dark in there. Quiet. She slowly reached within the bag, finding his ring first. She looked at it in the dim light. It was heavier than she would've imagined. Unconsciously, she slid it onto her thumb for safe keeping while she continued her search.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she removed his cell phone. Exhaling, she opened it, finding the in-case-of-emergency contacts. Accessing the list, she saw that Sarah's name was listed first, followed by Chuck, followed by the name she was hoping to find.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"You're going to have to tell her," Sarah said gently.

"Tell who what?" Chuck asked, glancing at her.

Sarah looked at him as sympathetically as she could. "You're going to have to tell Ellie what Casey said. Just in case."

He shook his head. "Casey can't... Casey can't possibly d..." He couldn't bring himself to say the "d" word. He just couldn't.


	5. Chapter 4

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck, Sarah, and Casey go to Club Phoenix to try to find the weapons deal between Catalyst, a Ring agent, and Donovan Hathaway. But, instead of completing their mission, Casey ends up shot and transported to Westside Medical. Chuck calls Devon and Morgan to join him as they wait on information about Casey. Ellie realizes who it was she was working on, and doesn't handle that knowledge very well. She learns that Chuck is a spy, and that Devon knew for longer than she would've ever realized.

* * *

"Hey, Sarah," Chuck answered, sitting in the darkened office at Westside.

"Chuck..." She sighed. "Beckman's sending three teams, one to try to follow the shooter, one to work on finding Hathaway, and the third to find Catalyst."

"Okay."

"I... I'm probably going to need your help to prepare the briefing."

"I've got Awesome and Morgan here. They can keep us posted on Casey's status."

"How's Ellie?"

"She's... I don't know," he admitted.

"Okay," Sarah said softly. "I'm at Castle."

"I'll be right there," he promised before hanging up the phone. He had to be a spy. He had to be a spy and work. He emerged into the brightly lit hallway, finding Devon standing guard for him. "Hey." He frowned. "Where's Ellie?"

Devon shrugged. "I think this may be the straw that finally breaks the camel's back. You know, we haven't been on the best of terms for a little while now."

"Don't talk like that yet," Chuck said. "She's just... She's a Bartowski. She needs time to freak out before she can calm down." He sighed. "Listen, I have to get to Castle. If there's any change, no matter how slight, if there's any news, no matter how un-newsworthy you may find it..."

"I'll call you, bro."

Chuck nodded.

Devon couldn't help but notice that it seemed like Chuck had aged a dozen years since he'd seen him last.

* * *

As Chuck descended into Castle, there were several agents already assembled within its protective walls. Sarah had changed, out of the dress and into jeans and a black tee shirt, her hair pulled back, almost severely. Her makeup was still smudged from the sprint and, Chuck guessed, from tears.

He was entirely over-dressed for the gathering. It wasn't the clothing itself that caught the attention of the CIA agents; it was the blood on his shirt, on his pants.

Sarah moved towards him, guiding him deeper into the base. "I set some clothes out for you," she said.

"Hey, Sarah, I... Casey wanted me to tell Ellie something. I mean, the potential for last..." He closed his eyes, determined to get through the thought without breaking. "Last-ever words and he wants... he wants me to pass along a message to my sister...? Why do you think that is?" he asked as they moved further and further away from the other agents.

"What did he want you to tell her?"

"That he was sorry. What would he be sorry for? I mean, why would he even..."

Sarah stopped, looking up at him.

"What? What's going on with him? Before, I mean. Before he was... before tonight," he said, unable to bring himself to say it again, that Casey had been shot.

"A spy's greatest enemy is proximity," she said, continuing down the hall.

Chuck followed her. "How is that bad? I would think that would be a good thing. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, y'know?"

"As much as we didn't want it to happen, as much as we tried to prevent it from happening... And, believe me, Chuck, we both did..." She took a breath. "I think there's something going on between Casey and Ellie."

Chuck actually laughed at that. "Oh, yeah, uh-huh, sure. Colonel Duty-before-dishonor and Dr. Loyalty-above-all-else."

"I'm not talking about a tryst. I think, because of their proximity, they've established a connection."

"A connection?" Chuck repeated.

"It's an easy trap to fall prey to. And sometimes you don't even realize what's happening."

"Sarah, this has been a long night and I feel like you're talking to me in code. What are you _really _saying?"

"I'm saying that I think Casey has developed feelings for your sister, feelings he'd never act on, not in a million years. And that Ellie has done the same for him."

"But... Devon..."

"As I said, neither of them would ever act on it, but it's there, this underlying current of... of _something_."

Chuck slowly shook his head. "That's... that's crazy."

"Look at us," she said simply.

"We're different. We're completely different. One of us isn't married and the other of us isn't, y'know, older than the other by... numerous years."

"One of us is a killer," she said. "One of us isn't. One of us is a spy, one of us never wanted this life but had it thrust upon us anyway."

Chuck shook his head. "Don't you go trying to make this make sense to me, Sarah. I can't... I think my brain, my Intersect brain, has had all the information it can possibly stand for one night. One more inkling, one more bit of data and I think I could crash."

"I need you to focus on the briefing. Do you think you can?"

He nodded.

* * *

Ellie stood in the hallway outside the operating room, watching numbly. Casey's gold-and-garnet Marine Corps ring was still on her thumb. It was loose, easy to twirl around. It gave her something to do, something to fidget with as she waited.

She was so conflicted, so torn. She'd give anything to be scooting across the courtyard, to knock on his door, to ask for advice, for guidance, for wisdom. Or even just to watch him trim and care for his bonsai tree. That was when he was the most peaceful, when she'd found the most comfort.

Morgan stood at the end of the hall, watching Ellie watch Casey. He wasn't sure where Devon had gotten off to, or Chuck for that matter, but he slowly eased down the hallway, carrying two Styrofoam cups. "Hey, El," he said gently.

She looked over at him. She tried to smile, but all she could manage was a faint twitch in the corners of her mouth.

"Coffee?" he said, offering her one.

She took it, careful not to lose Casey's ring. She didn't drink the coffee; she just held it, returning her attention to the surgeons at work.

"Big guy's gonna be fine. He's, y'know... he's the big guy."

She nodded.

"You care about him," he said, more as an observation than a question. She didn't respond. "Lemme guess, huh? The explosion in San Francisco, he saved you from that. And the mugging? Oh. Or, maybe it wasn't a mugging after all, was it? Something far more sinister, I'd bet..."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, remembering being _so_ scared. But, Casey had been so strong, so indestructible.

"The, uh..." He cleared his throat. "The hospital thing, when you were... when you were taken hostage. He was there, too, wasn't he?"

She tried to remain stoic, to draw from Casey's strength. A lone tear escaped, streaking down her cheek.

"El, I get it. Your very own bodyguard is... Well, he's down for a little maintenance. That's all. He'll be up and grunting and pushing the rest of us around before you know it."

"Morgan, I don't... I don't know how it happened," she admitted in a whisper. "How he became somehow... important, integral..."

"Don't worry about it now, Ellie, okay, just... focus your energies on the power of positive thought, right? We know he'll get better, so he will get better."

She managed a slight nod.

"Do you need anything?"

She inhaled slowly, brokenly before shaking her head.

"Okay," he said, squeezing her arm. "If you need me, I'll be close by."

* * *

Castle was quiet again, after a briefing with more agents than Chuck had seen in a while. Three teams, comprised of twelve agents apiece, were now scouring the city for any traces of the shooter, for any traces of Hathaway or Catalyst.

Club Phoenix was shut down, cordoned off. Half of the shooter team were starting from the club, trying to determine if there was any evidence left to help give them a direction.

Sarah rewound the footage from the interior of the club. "It doesn't make sense to me, why Casey would leave his post. Or what would cause our communications to malfunction like that."

Chuck shrugged.

Sarah eased to sit down next to Chuck as she hit play on the surveillance recording. They watched as they received their martinis followed by the exchange between Chuck and Casey regarding the drinks. They watched as they moved onto the dance floor, trying to find either of their marks.

They watched as Casey slid over the top of the bar, making his way towards them.

They watched as Chuck stood on the table.

Sarah paused the screen.

"Oh, my God," Chuck said, feeling as though he'd just been punched in the stomach. The shooter, very clearly, had her weapon trained on him. "Casey was protecting me."

When Sarah restarted the footage, it was clear that Casey tackled her, that they tumbled to the ground, lost amid the sea of dancers.

"Sarah, he was saving me."

She reached over, taking Chuck's hand. "I know this is a lot to process..."

"_I'm_ the reason he got shot!"

"The reason he got shot is not because of you, or anything you did or didn't do, or because of him, or anything he did or didn't do. The reason he got shot is because _that woman,_" she said, pointing at the screen, "shot him. That woman brought the gun to the club."

"Sarah, I..."

She stood, moving to stand in front of him, so that he had to look at her. "Chuck, Casey did his job, just as we were doing ours. Right?" Off his jerky nod, she continued. "This is no one's fault but the shooter's."

"But--"

"No, Chuck," she said firmly. "This is not your fault."

Chuck closed his eyes, taking shallow breaths.

"We should..." She sighed. "We should get to the hospital."

He slowly opened his eyes, nodding.

"You're going to have to tell her," Sarah said gently.

"Tell who what?" Chuck asked, glancing at her.

Sarah looked at him as sympathetically as she could. "You're going to have to tell Ellie what Casey said. Just in case."

He shook his head. "Casey can't... Casey can't possibly d..." He couldn't bring himself to say the "d" word. He just couldn't.

"He won't." At least, Sarah hoped. "But, he asked you to do something for him."

Chuck nodded.

* * *

As Chuck walked into the hospital, he felt the crushing weight of the situation on his shoulders again. In the car, at the Castle, it was somehow lessened. The closer he got to Casey, the closer he got to his sister, the heavier the weight felt.

He slowly approached Ellie, knowing that she wouldn't be far from the operating room. She was still in the hall, still playing with Casey's ring, still holding the untouched coffee from Morgan. "Hey, sis..." he ventured.

She glanced over, regarding him suspiciously.

"I... Casey wanted me to..." He cleared his throat. "Casey wanted me to tell you something."

Her suspicion melted but she was still fretful, remembering well that she'd been the one to slam the door on her way out.

"He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry."

Ellie closed her eyes.

"El, I..." Chuck wasn't sure what Casey was sorry for, but clearly Ellie knew, and she was responding to it.

It had been somewhat tranquil at first, her closed eyes, but then her face contorted. The emotions she'd struggled to keep inside, to keep under wraps could no longer be stopped. In torturous misery, she sobbed openly.

When he saw her start to crumble, he moved forward, pulling her into his arms, easing the coffee from her hand before trying to be her rock, to be steady for his big sister, who'd always been there for him, who'd always taken care of him.

While he'd always wanted to be able to return the favor for her, she never seemed to need it.

Until now.

* * *

She only had to tug a small suitcase from the baggage return. She'd packed light for two reasons. One, she didn't assume she'd stay long and two, she hadn't been given much time to pack in the first place.

She wheeled her case towards the Los Angeles night. For a woman who rarely left the Windy City anymore, it was quite a change. Her piercing blue eyes scanned her surroundings, spotting the person who had to be waiting on her.

Dark hair, softly tanned skin, still in scrubs. Most importantly, she was _exactly_ how he'd described her.

Wheeling the suitcase closer, she spoke with certainty: "Ellie."

Ellie turned, recognizing instantly the same blue eyes and kind smile she'd seen a hundred times. "Mrs. Casey."

"Dear, I thought we'd covered this over the phone. It's Joan."

Joan looked exactly like the kind of woman who would have a blue-ribbon peanut butter cookie recipe. She wore a periwinkle twinset, dark slacks, and sensible flats. Her gray hair was shoulder length but pulled back at the nape of her neck.

"Joan," Ellie corrected. "I'm so glad you could come on such short notice."

"I'm so glad you called," she admitted. "I'm not sure I would've known otherwise."

"My car is this way," Ellie said, taking over luggage duty. "We'll go straight to the hospital." She glanced casually at her watch--the watch he'd given her. She tried not to let that memory darken her thoughts for long. "He's been in surgery since about nine."

"Is that normal?"

Ellie popped the trunk of her car, sliding the suitcase within safely. "There have been complications," she said hesitantly. "Collapsed lung chief among them."

"You said he was in good hands, though."

"He is."

"If you trust them, I trust them. Because, Johnny trusts you."

Ellie tried to smile at Joan, she did. It just didn't quite work out the way she'd wanted it to. "We should get back."

* * *

Devon and Morgan were playing cards in the back corner of the waiting room. Chuck sat, his head in his hands, next to Sarah, who was gently rubbing his back.

It had taken a while for Ellie to calm down after Chuck delivered Casey's message, but as soon as she had, she'd pushed Chuck away. The distrust in her eyes, the disappointment, it was almost too much for Chuck to handle. It was worse than hearing her voice when he'd called to tell her he'd been kicked out of Stanford. It was worse than seeing her face when they realized their mother was never, ever coming back. It was even worse than seeing her face when they realized their father was never, ever coming back.

They'd been through so much. They'd endured so much together, that facing this alone, without her, it was troubling.

He wanted his sister back.

He glanced towards the door when two shadows passed in the hall. He recognized Ellie and slowly got to his feet.

"Chuck?" Sarah asked.

"I'll be right back," he said, moving out into the corridor and around the corner, following after Ellie and the older woman with her.

They paused, just shy of the hall with the operating rooms. After quiet words, Ellie slipped down the hall, clearly to check on Casey. But, who was the woman?

Chuck waved a little when the woman looked back at him. He slowly approached her. "Hi, there..."

She smiled a little, sadly. "You must be Chuck."

"I, uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm Chuck. I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."

"Joan Casey," she said. "I'm John's mother."

Chuck narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. John Casey didn't have a mother. _Alex Coburn_ had one. "Well, it's nice to meet'cha," he said, his jaw tight as he held his hand out to her. His mind was reeling. He wished he'd grabbed Sarah for this.

"Likewise," she said, taking his hand.

As they shook, Chuck glanced down, spotting a distinctive white gold ring with a blue gemstone. Sapphire, he suspected, until his eyes unfocused. He was struck with a series of images. Once he sorted through the random ones, he saw her, younger, with the same ring. It wasn't sapphire but a custom-made marquise-cut blue diamond ring. The CIA dossier listed her name as Elizabeth Coburn, born Elizabeth Lennox, along with her code name. "Bl-Bluebird..." His eyes grew wide. "Omigod... You..."

"Chuck, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that name again," Joan said evenly.

"But you... you're... and he's..."

"It's all classified," she said gently.

"Wh... right, I just... I didn't know that you... that he..." Chuck shook his head. "Hi, Mrs. Casey. It's very nice to meet you. I'm just so sorry that it's under these circumstances."

"Me, too, Chuck."

* * *

1989

She sat at the funeral. Prim. Still. She'd buried her husband because of his chosen profession, and now she was burying her son.

There weren't many at the graveside service. A few other servicemen, the local color guard, and an Army chaplain.

No one who had known her son personally.

It bothered him, the way the suit made her look gaunt, thin, as he stood across the way, hidden behind a tree at the edge of the cemetery.

She clutched the tri-folded flag as it was presented to her.

One by one, everyone left.

One by one, the service dwindled, down to a mother and her son.

She inhaled deeply, glancing around, ensuring that the coast was clear. She looked forward, at the treeline, where her son was standing, waiting. Hesitantly, she nodded.

He sprinted to across the graveyard to her, careful of headstones and markers. "I know this doesn't make sense," he began.

"You don't have to tell me anything... John. I know."

Confusion crossed his young features.

She reached out, touching her son's still innocent face. "Someday, today won't matter. It'll be like a long, forgotten memory. A faded dream. But, remember this: I love you, son. No matter what your name."

He nodded. The thing that bothered him most, the thing that troubled him, was dishonoring his father's memory. "Dad... I don't think he'd understand. _Ever_."

"Your father, rest his soul, knew something of service. Of sacrifice. It's not just the name he gave you. In your chest beats the same heart, the heart of a soldier, a stubborn one," she said, cracking a slight smile.

"Mother, I..."

"Don't worry, Johnny-boy," she said affectionately. "Joan Casey will always be there for her son John."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

The chapel.

She wasn't really the praying type, but she found herself wandering reverently inside, nervously standing at the back.

The room was dim but peaceful. It was small, with a few pews and a tiny altar at the front. "I don't know what I'm doing here," she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. "God, I know you and I haven't been on speaking terms since Mom left. And, particularly not after Dad left. And it would have to take a really good reason for me to start talking to you again."

She eased to sit on one of the pews, looking at the Marine Corps ring on her thumb.

She drew a slow breath, closing her eyes and bowing her head. "Please, don't let him die."


	6. Chapter 5

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Additional Note: For some reason, this lovely fanfiction website seems to have misplaced my scene breaks for the older installments of this series, as well as most of my other Chuck fic. I am in the process of trying to get them fixed, but I think the only way to do so is to re-upload all of the documents. (Anyone with any ideas otherwise, please let me know). Because of the issue, I am posting early... Since I know what I'll be doing this evening. Many thanks, ~K

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck and Sarah brief several CIA teams to take over the searching for Catalyst, Hathaway, and Casey's shooter. Sarah admits to Chuck that there's something, some bond, between Ellie and Casey. Chuck gives Ellie the message Casey wanted him to pass along. Morgan makes astute observations about Ellie. Ellie meets Casey's mom at the airport, and Chuck flashes on her distinctive ring: she's former CIA.

* * *

Chuck walked into the waiting room, his hands resting lightly on Joan's shoulders. "Hey, everybody, I want you all to meet Casey's mom..."

Only Sarah seemed the least bit alarmed, standing slowly, taking in the woman's appearance, her age, her features. She _could_ be his mother...

Chuck introduced them all around, and noted that Sarah and Joan were regarding each other in a way that wasn't quite... right, he decided finally. He cleared his throat. "Y'know, we've got so many people here, and Morgan, I know you've got the morning shift at the Buy More tomorrow..."

"It's so late, I'm gonna need a ride back."

"Devon, why don't you... why don't you take Morgan home?"

"What about Ellie?" Devon asked.

"She'll be fine for fifteen, twenty minutes," Chuck said, trying to motion both the men out the door as subtly as he could, which was about as nonchalant as a sledgehammer at this late hour.

"Oh," Devon said with a nod. "Sure. Okay. Yeah, Morgan, let's get you back to the apartment..."

Once Devon and Morgan left, the room was empty, except for three intelligence agents.

"Sarah, this _really is_ Casey's mom. Can't you just see the _flashes _of Casey in his mom, here?" Chuck said.

Sarah glanced back and forth between them. "The eyes, certainly," she said.

Chuck nodded. "Exactly."

"It seems as though Agent Bartowski, here, is already aware of who I am," Joan said with a kind smile. "Perhaps it's best, under the circumstances, to call a spade a spade. Agent Walker."

"I wasn't aware that Casey had told his family about his profession," Sarah commented.

"He didn't," Joan said, looking at Chuck.

"Mama Casey, here, used to be Mama _Coburn_..." he said quietly.

Something clicked in Sarah's head, some story from her training days at Langley. "Not... Not Elizabeth Coburn, was it?"

"You know her?" Chuck asked.

"My reputation still precedes me. I'm not sure if that's troubling or comforting," Joan admitted.

Sarah was awestruck. "It's an honor, ma'am."

"Please. Joan," she corrected with a grandmotherly smile.

* * *

Devon was quiet on the drive to Echo Park.

Morgan attributed part of it to the exhaustion. And part of it to what he'd seen in the hallway outside the operating suites. "You all right, there, Cap'n?"

"Hm?"

"Maybe I should be the one driving, eh?"

Devon seemed to shake himself from his funk. "Oh, I'm sorry, Morgan, I'm just... just thinking about Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Devon shook his head at first, and was quiet for a few blocks. He sighed. He needed to talk to someone, and Morgan was there and had offered. His confession was painful to say aloud. "I lost her before I married her."

Morgan took a solid minute for that sentence to sink in before shaking his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Y'know the night Ellie likes to recall, from time to time, when the floor was covered, stem to stern, in rose petals?"

Morgan remembered he needed to be neutral, to not roll his eyes. He was quite familiar with the story, as he'd heard Ellie repeat it ad nauseam, telling all about the most romantic night of her life. "Sure."

"I didn't do any of it."

Morgan looked over at Devon, shocked. "Then, _how_...?"

Devon glanced back over at him, an eyebrow arched. "How do you think?"

"CIA doesn't do stuff like that... do they?"

Devon shrugged. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Plus, they've been trying to help me get my marriage back on track with Ellie since before the ER was taken hostage," he admitted. "It's not working. Nothing I say works, whether it's the truth, whether it's a lie... Bearded one, I don't think it's going to last."

"I think... I think you're getting ahead of yourself a little here, Cap'n. I know that the emotions have run really high tonight 'cause of Casey and everything, but I wouldn't... I wouldn't go jumping to conclusions, y'know?

"I'm not thinking worst-case-scenario here, Morgan. I'm trying to be a pragmatist. All signs point to trouble."

* * *

She wandered through the halls. The one good thing about the hospital at three in the morning was that it was relatively quiet. Most patients were sleeping. There were fewer visitors, fewer distractions.

She tried to clear her mind, to puzzle through the thoughts that plagued her. Devon had lied to her. Chuck had lied to her.

Casey was, potentially, dying.

It was too much to comprehend. It was information overload. Her head pounded and her heart ached. Everything she thought she'd known about her life, everything she'd thought she'd understood was wrong.

She felt betrayed and broken.

And the fear for Casey's life was nearly overpowering.

She couldn't believe she'd slammed his door that afternoon. Had it only been twelve hours ago?

Now that she knew the truth, that Casey was a spy, that Chuck was some kind of spy, too, that Devon and even Morgan knew the details... She hadn't been trusted. By any of them.

Except Casey.

And, even then, it had only been late in the game. But, he'd protected her. Twice that she was aware of. She'd become accustomed to his always being on her periphery.

The thought of that no longer being the case made her world a scary place.

She stopped, looking up as she realized where she'd wandered to, spotting the simple wooden cross next to the door.

The chapel.

She wasn't really the praying type, but she found herself wandering reverently inside, nervously standing at the back.

The room was dim but peaceful. It was small, with a few pews and a tiny altar at the front. "I don't know what I'm doing here," she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. "God, I know you and I haven't been on speaking terms since Mom left. And, particularly not after Dad left. And it would have to take a really good reason for me to start talking to you again."

She eased to sit on one of the pews, looking at the Marine Corps ring on her thumb.

She drew a slow breath, closing her eyes and bowing her head. "Please, don't let him die."

* * *

Devon returned to the hospital after dropping off Morgan. He didn't immediately go back to the waiting room, or to the ER or operating suites, to check on Ellie. He needed to clear his head, so he wandered around the halls. He turned the corner and ran into his wife. "Hey..."

She looked up at him slowly.

He realized where she was just coming out of. "The chapel?"

She shrugged.

"Ellie, I can't take this silent treatment..."

"You lied to me, Devon."

"I'm not the only one who was withholding information."

"You know exactly what consists of doctor-patient privilege."

"I don't see how that makes it all that different," he told her.

She scoffed. "It's... it's worlds apart. Chuck just opens up to you, because you stumbled across something. It was an 'accident.' What prevented you from telling me?"

"They told me not to."

"They?"

"Chuck, Casey, Sarah..."

"Even _Sarah_?"

"She's... she's what Casey is, kinda," he said, glancing around as a nurse walked just down the corridor from them.

"Devon, I was upholding my oath as a doctor."

"What about your oath as my wife?"

"What about your oath as _my husband_? I've had just about all I can stand of your 'obey this, forbid that...' At this point, I can't tell that we ever had a partnership, what a marriage is really supposed to be."

"I was doing that to try to protect you, to protect us from _their _insanity, Ellie." He sighed, mentally trying to take a step back. "Let's... let's try this, okay? I think it's safe to say that we both messed up. We were both sworn to secrecy. We've both lied to each other about this."

"It's different!"

"_How_? Explain this to me, babe, 'cause I'm just not gettin' it."

"He was my patient in San Francisco. He was my patient here."

Devon, annoyed, fired back without thinking: "What was it in San Fran, huh? A paper cut?"

Ellie turned to stone. It was frightening to see his normally warm, compassionate wife become granite: uncaring and cold.

"Ellie, I didn't... As much as it would be easy to blame all of our problems on the lies from the past year, I'm really starting to think that's not the root cause."

"That's your diagnosis, is it?" she asked bitingly.

"I think it's more serious than our hiding things from each other." And, Devon knew, the prognosis wasn't good.

* * *

When Sarah went to get more coffee, Chuck went with her. He leaned against the wall, watching as she fixed a fresh mug. "How'd you know Casey's mom?"

Sarah casually glanced at Joan, who was seated across the room. "She's a legend. Sort of a fairytale for spies, I guess. It was the sixties. A brave new world. Ten Marines were taken captive by Soviet agents. It was a tense situation. The US wasn't inclined to negotiate but they couldn't leave them either, so the CIA assigned a daring mission to one agent."

"Mama Casey?"

"It was Agent Lennox at the time."

"How is this story a fairytale?"

"Because, one of the Marines was Major Coburn."

Chuck actually smiled a little.

"She married the soldier she saved, they had a child..."

"But, how did she become Joan Casey?"

"Well, the story took a sad turn and became something from the Brothers Grimm sometime in the late 80s, early 90s. After her husband and son died in the line, there was an accident. Until an hour ago, I would've told you it was just history. But, now, I'm guessing it was so Elizabeth could become Joan."

"She adopted a new cover..."

Sarah shrugged, nodding.

"Wow, that's... sweet, in a way." His father, when adopting a cover, just... left.

* * *

The waiting room was silent. Chuck, Sarah and Devon sat at a table, staring at the empty coffee cups. Ellie occasionally paced by the front door. Joan managed to get her to sit from time to time, but not often.

It was during one of those rare sitting periods that Ellie spoke. "Mrs. Casey..."

"Joan," she reminded gently.

"Joan, I know that you have this..." She licked her lips. "This blue-ribbon peanut butter cookie recipe. And I know that you gave it to John, under penalty of death, to never _ever_ reveal its secret."

Joan looked at her curiously.

"A couple months ago, he told me. I didn't write it down or anything, but I did commit it to memory.

"It's all right, dear," Joan said with a soft smile.

"I was scared then," Ellie admitted. "It... it calmed me down."

"Then, it served a very good purpose."

Ellie still wasn't sure.

"I always knew someday he'd share it with someone. I just hoped that the... threat... would prevent him from sharing it with the whole world. Or selling it to Betty Crocker or something."

A hint of a smile took to Ellie's lips but it vanished as the surgeon walked in.

"Ellie, Devon... Everybody else here for John Casey, too?"

Ellie nodded, finding Joan's hand.

"It took longer than expected. There was a substantial amount of blood loss that required several additional units of blood, but he's through with surgery. We're going to keep a close eye on him, but I think he's on tap for a full recovery."

Ellie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and Joan squeezed her hand.

Chuck wrapped Sarah in a tight hug.

Devon sighed.

"He's still asleep, but if someone wanted to see him," continued the surgeon.

Joan got to her feet. She hadn't even seen her son, not in years. She was thankful for the occasional phone call, but she wanted to see her boy desperately.

There were tears in Ellie's eyes as she looked at Joan, who had taken a step to follow the surgeon.

Joan paused then reached out for Ellie, who slowly stood. "Walk with me, dear?"

Ellie didn't hesitate before nodding.

"God, Sarah," Chuck breathed, slowly pulling back from her.

Sarah glanced at her watch. "We should check in, see where our teams are, if they've had any luck. And call Beckman."

"Does sleep fit anywhere into this equation?" Chuck asked.

"After Castle," Sarah told him with a nod.

Devon felt very much like an outsider, like a third wheel. "You guys be careful."

Chuck looked at his brother-in-law. "Devon..."

"It's okay, bro," Devon said quietly.

Chuck wished he knew what to say. He went so far as to look to Sarah for help, but none was forthcoming.

* * *

Ellie lingered in the doorway as Joan slowly approached her son. He looked so pale, even in the dim light of the room. He was hooked up to several different monitors. There were tubes and cables everywhere, it seemed.

While she was relieved to see Casey, it was troubling to Ellie. That wasn't the Casey she knew. Her Casey was tall and strong, always vigilant, always alert.

This Casey wasn't.

Her Casey grunted and smirked, speaking with purpose or not at all.

This Casey didn't.

Joan reached out, with minutely trembling hands, to touch her son's dark hair. She heaved a sigh of relief but knew they weren't out of the woods. Not yet.

"Can I get you anything, Joan?" Ellie asked quietly.

Joan glanced back, but shook her head.

Ellie briefly entered the room, pulling the guest chair as close to the bed as possible, so that Joan could sit with him. Her eyes lingered on his pale face for a moment before she moved back towards the door. "Okay, then," she murmured. The very last thing she wanted to do was leave, but this wasn't her place.

Joan turned. "You won't stay?"

"This is... This is a family moment," Ellie said, shaking her head.

"And, from what he described to me, it sounds like you're the closest thing to family here. Please stay, Ellie."

Slowly nodding, Ellie walked back inside.

"And besides, you know the family secret recipe. If that doesn't make you family, I don't know what would."

Ellie smiled a little.

* * *

After Sarah and Chuck briefed the General on Casey's health, she had news for them. She spoke haltingly. "It seems we had some bad intel two days ago."

Chuck, confused, glanced at Sarah, who never pulled her eyes from the flat-screen.

"One of our agents in Jordan spotted Hathaway yesterday."

Sarah closed her eyes briefly. "We were set up?"

"It was determined that he'd been there since Monday, that his itinerary doesn't have him leaving until tomorrow, and that his next stop is Beijing, not L.A.," continued Beckman.

"So, who was the woman? The woman who shot Casey that tried to shoot me?" asked Chuck.

"We can only assume that the woman was the Ring agent, Catalyst."

"The Ring wanted to kill Chuck," Sarah said slowly.

"It would appear that way," Beckman said. "Given the extreme nature of the attack, Chuck, you will be staying at Castle until this blows over."

"General, my sister is in a real emotional upheaval at the moment. My not being there for her at this juncture would be _especially_ bad--"

"I'm reassigning Hathway's search team," Beckman continued. "They will now be security for Colonel Casey as he recovers and for you and your family."

* * *

Ellie sat on the room's small couch, watching Casey's chest rise and fall with each even breath.

Joan stretched her arms and her back, fighting a yawn.

When the thunderous sound of marching feet echoed in the corridor, Ellie stood, moving towards the door. She started to peek out but a suited gentleman appeared, startling her.

He had short blond hair and hard brown eyes. "Dr. Woodcomb?"

"Yes?"

He showed his badge. "Christopher O'Bannon. Federal agent."

She looked at him hesitantly. "Can I help you?"

O'Bannon breezed into the room, nodding at Joan, before ensuring that the location was secure. "Until such time as Colonel Casey's shooter is apprehended, you, Mrs. Casey, and the Colonel are under our protection."

"What about--"

"Rest assured, ma'am," he said. "Your brother and husband are safe as well."

Ellie looked back at Joan, who didn't seem at all upset or concerned that they were there.

"It's okay, dear," Joan said. "Come back and sit down."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

Chuck licked his lips. "Did you see Devon?"

"We've tried every way, Chuck, to try to help them," she said as gently as she could. "All the outside assistance in the world... I don't think it's enough."

"Awesome is a good guy, y'know. I mean, he's annoyingly perfect from time to time, but he's not a bad guy."

Sarah watched Chuck closely. "Neither is Casey."

"No, I know..." He sighed. "And, it's not like you can pick who you fall in love with, can you?" he asked, looking at her.


	7. Chapter 6

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck introduces Joan Casey to Sarah, and they realize each other are spies. Devon takes Morgan home while Ellie stops in the hospital chapel. Devon and Ellie have an argument about the state of their relationship and Devon comes to the conclusion that they're in real trouble. Casey pulls through surgery and is in recovery. Beckman informs Saran and Chuck that they had bad intel, that Catalyst was the shooter, and until Catalyst is caught, everyone's under CIA protection.

* * *

Chuck paced the entire length of the conference room. He walked up the stairs to the Orange Orange and then back down again. He was making laps and he was driving her crazy.

"Chuck, please..."

"My sister is out there, and Casey is out there, and Devon is..." Chuck closed his eyes.

"There's nothing you can do right now."

"But, I need to be doing something. I need to be at the hospital for my sister. I need to be at the hospital for Casey. I need to figure out if there's something that we need to do for Devon and Ellie..."

"There's nothing we can do right now for any of them," Sarah said softly. "Even if we were there, Chuck, we'd be sitting in the waiting room, talking amongst ourselves."

"But, I'd be there. And Ellie wouldn't be worried."

"There are four agents at the hospital with them right now," Sarah reminded him.

"I know, but if we were there, there'd be six agents. And if the four guys keeping us here would be there... so ten. There could be ten!"

Sarah smiled. Chuck was endearing, even when stressed out.

"What?" he asked hesitantly.

"I appreciate and understand your concern for your sister, Chuck, but she's perfectly safe." She moved towards the computer terminal, bringing up the security footage from Westside. Ellie, Joan, and Casey appeared on the large flat-screen at the front of the room.

Chuck seemed to ease at the sight of his sister. "Do you have the entire hospital wired for sound?"

Sarah shook her head. "Just video."

He watched as Ellie and Joan quietly talked, as Casey lay perfectly still. He slowly sat down. "I can take care of myself, though," he said quietly.

"The way your emotions are right now, Chuck, I'm not sure you could flash."

He deflated. "You could be right," he grumbled.

"You're starting to sound like Casey," Sarah said with a grin.

"Think he's really going to be okay?"

She nodded.

"He saved Ellie twice. He's saved me more times than I can count... but he's never gotten shot _for_ me before."

"He's a hero."

"And, he and Ellie," he began slowly.

She looked over at him.

"They're..."

"They're close," Sarah said simply.

"You knew this?"

"I saw hints," she admitted. "He's denied it. She's ignored it. I think it's sort of become the pink elephant in the room."

Chuck licked his lips. "Did you see Devon?"

"We've tried every way, Chuck, to try to help them," she said as gently as she could. "All the outside assistance in the world... I don't think it's enough."

"Awesome is a good guy, y'know. I mean, he's annoyingly perfect from time to time, but he's not a bad guy."

Sarah watched Chuck closely. "Neither is Casey."

"No, I know..." He sighed. "And, it's not like you can pick who you fall in love with, can you?" he asked, looking at her.

She shook her head. "You can't," she whispered.

* * *

Occasionally, Ellie kept glancing at the door.

Joan stood, moving to sit beside Ellie on the room's small couch. "It's a hard life." Off the doctor's confused look, she continued: "A spy's life," she said quietly.

Ellie's hazel eyes got momentarily wide. "You know? About John?"

"I was notified," Joan said, looking back at her son. "As a courtesy. One current director to one former agent."

"You were an operative," Ellie breathed, amazed. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"I imagine he's always had questions, but he's never asked me or, to my knowledge, anyone else."

"Why didn't you ever tell him?"

"Same reason he never told me. Same reason he didn't tell you until, I'm sure, he had to," Joan said. "Because it was for the best, for all parties involved."

"It bothers him," Ellie murmured. "That he can't tell you."

"It's the worst part of the job," she said knowingly. "You're taught that love, that emotions have no place in your world anymore. You're supposed to compartmentalize everything, put it away in tiny boxes, shoved to the back of your heart, to the depths of your very soul. It's those that you love the most that you protect the hardest. The ones that you lie to the most, second only, probably, to yourself."

"It's horrible."

"It's necessary. Emotions can get you killed. They can cloud your judgment."

"But, he's not a robot. You're not a robot. My brother is definitely not a robot..."

"I didn't say that they were never there. I said they color your behaviors," Joan explained.

She could hear Casey's voice in her head, from days gone by: _You have emotions, not the other way around..._ Ellie exhaled. "I don't know what I feel anymore. About any of them."

"I know it's confusing."

"But, if you were a spy, and he doesn't know... I mean, how does that work?"

"I was a spy in a very different time," she said, choosing her words carefully. "This day and age, there's a lot more forward thinking. When I had Johnny, my career was over. But, I wouldn't trade one second."

Ellie looked over at her, trying to comprehend it.

"Oh, don't look so worried, dear. It was the best decision I ever made, becoming a mother, giving up that life. Having something normal, having something real. Having something I could hold onto. I just never imagined I'd be without his father..." She sighed, thinking back. "Johnny was still so young. Nine years old and he became the 'man of the house.'" She smiled faintly. "He was a tall little boy, with these bright, inquisitive blue eyes. Always helpful, ever watchful. Quiet, smart." She drew a slightly ragged breath, looking at her son.

Ellie reached over, placing her hand atop Joan's.

* * *

Devon couldn't sleep. He tried, but, even as tired as he was, he found his mind racing. After all, he'd argued with Ellie. Maybe he'd been too harsh. Maybe he hadn't been understanding enough. But, really, how was what he did any different from what she'd done?

He sat on the bed, watching the minutes on the alarm clock flicker and change.

Sighing, he grabbed his cell phone, dialing a familiar number.

"Hey, buddy." Chuck's voice was reassuring on the other end of the line.

"Hey, bro..."

"Security's not hassling you, are they?"

"What?"

"There's a team of four guys in the courtyard."

Devon eased out of bed, creeping towards the window. Looking through the slats of the shades, he could see the darkened figures lingering in the shadows. "Oh, wow. When'd they get here?"

"Probably twenty minutes ago."

"Oh."

"You okay, Devon?"

He hesitated then jumped right to it: "I don't think..." He sighed. "I don't think I've ever seen your sister so upset."

Chuck was silent for a moment. "I have."

"What?"

"When we were kids... Well, when I was a kid. Ellie took on the world, all by herself. Part-time jobs, full-time worry-wart. And, let's not forget, she'd run into a nearby phone booth, throw on an apron, and become Super Mom."

"Chuck, I don't think I can fix this."

"You know there's nothing more I can do, right?" Chuck asked haltingly.

"I promised her I'd never let her down again, not after the bachelor party debacle."

"Devon, this wasn't entirely your doing."

"I had the option, bro. I made my choices."

"We didn't make it easy for you, for any of you."

Devon eased down on the bed. "I just... the one thing I regret is that I hurt your sister, after I promised her I wouldn't."

There was silence for a long moment. "Unfortunately, one of the first lessons you learn in the spy business, Devon, is that you don't make promises. Of any kind. Because you just can't keep them."

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was light. Everything was hazy, blurry. He felt like his head had been smashed in with a cinder block, like his chest had been ripped apart, torn to tiny pieces and then glued haphazardly back together. His throat was dry and it hurt to breathe.

Then the memories came back, in vivid technicolor. He remembered being shot. He remembered Chuck and then nothingness.

He tried to raise a hand to his head. How long had he been out? Where was he?

He'd been in his fair share of military and spy hospitals in his time. Bare bones rooms, no visitors, nothing to speak of to look at. It was just a place to sit and recuperate and remember how much the place sucked so as to try to never return.

As his vision began to clear, he was aware of shadows within the light. Shadows of medical equipment, of cabinets. Of things he didn't recognize yet.

And then that voice.

"John?"

It was warm and sweet.

He fought hard to open his eyes, to adjust them to the light, to see the face that matched the angel voice.

"Joan, he's waking up."

He suddenly felt hands on him, checking his pulse, his breathing. His initial instinct was to struggle, but something told him not to.

His brain processed the sentence from just a moment ago, the data making its way through the cobwebs of his consciousness. _Joan_. "Mom?" he managed, his voice weak.

"Right here, Johnny-boy," she murmured.

He felt a hand on his ankle.

His mother, his beloved mother, was sitting at his bedside, watching over him. "Mom," he managed, feeling as though he were trying to speak through a mouthful of cotton. "What're you doing here?"

She smiled just as his vision finally cleared enough for him to be able to actually see, but she looked over, at someone else in the room. "Your friend Ellie called me."

"Ellie..."

"I had to, John," Ellie said simply.

Slowly, he turned his head, his blue eyes spotting her, recognizing her as being the body that belonged to the angelic voice. "Hey," he murmured.

For the first time all night, her smile reached her eyes. "Hey," she returned softly. She leaned over, hitting the nurse call button. When the voice answered, Ellie relayed that Casey was awake as well his vitals.

Casey, meanwhile, tried desperately to wet his whistle.

Joan wordlessly offered her son a spoonful of ice chips from the cup Ellie had kept perpetually filled since he was rolled out of surgery, for when he would finally wake.

He closed his eyes, feeling the cold soothe his mouth. When he opened them again, he watched as Ellie slowly removed his gold and garnet ring from her thumb.

"I held onto it," she said quietly. "For safe keeping. I hope you don't mind."

"Thanks," he murmured as she pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers around it. Her smile was tender, but, even through his medicated, post-surgical haze, he could see that she was in turmoil, that her world was spinning out of control. He started to say something to her when his doctor breezed into the room, having gotten past his security.

Ellie backed away from the cot slowly. After all, she needed to call Chuck and Sarah.

* * *

Chuck took a breath when he saw his sister's face on his caller ID. "Ellie," he told Sarah before answering. "Hey, sis."

"He's awake," she said, thrilled.

"Oh, El. El, that's awesome. How is he?"

"His vitals look good, he was alert. He recognized me, his mother... I think he's going to be just fine, Chuck."

"That's such great news. I can't wait... to see him." Of course, he wasn't sure when that would be. He sighed. "Tell him I'm thinking about him and as soon as I get done with... what I'm in the middle of... I'll be out to see him."

"I need to see him," Sarah whispered.

"But, tell him Sarah's on her way, okay?"

"Sure."

* * *

When Sarah showed up, Casey reached out, finding Ellie's hand. "Would you take my mom to the cafeteria, get something to eat?"

Ellie nodded. "Of course," she murmured.

Joan patted Casey's ankle before standing and following Ellie out into the hallway.

Sarah moved towards him slowly. "How are you doing?"

"Well... I'm breathing."

She smiled. "I briefed Beckman."

"How'd that go?"

"She sends along her wishes for a speedy recovery."

Casey grunted and, secretly, Sarah was glad to hear it. It meant Casey was still Casey.

"I know you're still under the influence of medications, but we need to discuss what happened last night."

"I'm assuming you didn't catch the shooter, which is why there's a very obvious security team outside my door, following my mother and Ellie?"

She nodded. "Did you hear anything? Did the shooter say anything? We think that she's Catalyst. Turns out Hathaway wasn't even in town."

"All I know is that she was aiming at Chuck."

"We saw that, from the security feed."

"So, we walked right into a Ring trap. Somebody knew we were there, knew what we'd do. Knew our coms frequency and how to circumvent it."

"Maybe the jamming device is still on site?"

He grunted noncommittally.

"It's been on CIA-lockdown since the shooting. She wouldn't have been able to go back and get it if it was planted somewhere at the club."

"Check the bar," he said, moving slightly in the bed, making a face as he readjusted his weight. "Don't think I saw her linger anywhere else for very long."

Making a mental note to check where he suggested first, she couldn't help but notice his pained expression. "You okay?"

He grunted. "I've been shot before, Walker."

"I know."

Casey cracked a grin. "Don't go getting soft on me. Between my mother and Ellie, I think they have the market cornered."

Sarah eased to sit down in the chair Joan had vacated. "Chuck hasn't said officially, but I think Ellie knows the rest of the story."

Casey tried to chortle but it came out more of a cough. "Plausible deniability. Kid really is a spy."

"If that's the case, it's no longer safe. For any of us."

"I don't think it'll be that bad."

Sarah arched an eyebrow. "Those meds must be really good."

He squinted at her. "Ellie's proven to be the most reliable. We'd been making progress with Woodcomb. It was just that Ellie was too good. And Grimes. Well, he's loyal to Chuck. He'd probably accept losing the beard before giving up the rest of us."

"You sound so certain."

"The difference is in our skill sets. You're CIA, the covert operative. I'm the assassin, the ears. Your job is to accomplish missions. Mine is to observe, to pick up on the minute differences, to analyze people, to know them better than they know themselves, to pinpoint their weaknesses. Ellie's stronger than Bartowski, Grimes, and Woodcomb put together."

"You sure your emotions aren't coloring your assessment?"

He looked up at her. "Trust me."

She smiled a little. There were only two people in the world she trusted implicitly: John Casey and Chuck Bartowski. She nodded.

* * *

Big Mike was pacing. He hadn't even touched the donuts on his desk. "Hustle up, people!" he called to his associates.

Morgan herded the Nerds and green shirts along the front aisle of the store, fighting a yawn.

Big Mike began his slow processional, from one end of his employees to the other. "Some of you may not be aware, but tragedy struck. Our very own John Casey..." His voice faltered. "Our very own John Casey was shot last night."

The gasp that followed Big Mike's announcement was audible. It nearly sucked all the air from the sales floor.

Lester and Jeff looked at each other, horrified for a moment. But, only a moment. "Mafia hit," Lester whispered.

Jeff wrinkled his nose. "Pissed-off pimp."

The two shook hands.

"Because today, like everyday, is an important sales day, I want each and every one of you out there, working your butts off, to ensure that we have one of the greatest days in retail _history_! I want you to think about John Casey, our gentle giant, our large appliances guru. I want you to ask yourselves..." He stopped, looking at the tall, curly-haired Skip. "What would John Casey sell?" He continued to pace again. "I want you to go out there, and I want you to sell a Beastmaster for the Casey!"

The green shirts cheered at the rousing speech.

"Get out there!" Big Mike told them. "Get going!"

As the employees scattered, only Big Mike and Morgan remained.

"We should send something nice to the hospital," Big Mike said.

"Well, I don't really see John as a 'flower'-y kinda guy, y'know? What about a fruit basket?"

Big Mike scoffed. "I was thinking about a get-well card. Signed by everybody. Think one of the Nerds can whip something up?'

Morgan nodded. "I'm sure they can. I'll get 'em right on it, Big Mike."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Right," Morgan said, getting to the point. "So, I'm gonna pull a page from Ellie's book, here, Casey. I'm taking off the Buy More green, the neighborly Mr. Rogers' sweater. Now, I may not have a degree from some accredited university or even the El Segundo School of Finance, but I have a Ph.D from the school of hard knocks."

Casey snickered, but it wasn't mean-spirited. It was amused, almost appreciative.

"So, what do you say? How 'bout a session with Dr. Morgan?" he asked, resting his chin on his closed fist.

Casey hated to admit it, but he was curious. "Sure."


	8. Chapter 7

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Chuck doesn't do well cooped up at Castle. Ellie and Joan bond over the trials and tribulations of spy life. Devon realizes things will be different. Casey wakes up, seeing his mother, Ellie, and getting a debriefing from Sarah. Big Mike gives a rousing "sell-one-for-the-Casey" speech at the Buy More.

* * *

Ellie was surprised to find Casey alone when she returned to his room. Well, alone as one could be with two men standing guard at the door. He looked like he was resting and she tried to quietly sneak back out but failed as she ran into one of his sentinels.

Casey looked over at the door and smiled slightly. "It's all right, Ellie."

She apologized to the guard before re-entering his room.

"Where's my mother?"

"Stopped by the gift store."

He grunted, amused. He could only imagine what she'd come back with.

"About your mother..." Ellie hesitated. "I looked through your phone to find her number. I'm sorry. I just thought, if you didn't... if you hadn't made it, that she..."

He waved her off weakly. "It's okay."

She winced. "I also told her that you told me about her recipe."

"Well, it's been nice knowing you," he deadpanned.

"She said it was okay!"

"For you, sure. For me, that's another story."

She shook her head, placing a hand over her heart. "Please don't joke, John. Seriously, I can't take it today."

He could hear the strain in her voice and he immediately regretted any levity he'd tried to inject. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Have you gotten any sleep?"

"Sure..." It was a lie. An outright lie and a bad one.

"You're headed for a crash," he told her knowingly.

"Which is why I'm thinking about going home, but I wanted to make sure you were okay first."

"Thanks to you," he said. "Surgeon said you were the one to work on me first."

Panic took to her eyes for a split second as she remembered, vividly, screaming. As she recalled the blood on her hands, her scrubs.

He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he hated being confined to the bed. "Ellie..."

She crossed towards him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, confirming for herself that, yes, he really was alive. He really was there. He really was okay.

He searched her eyes and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Doc..."

She smiled a little at his concern.

"Not so sure you should be driving."

"Not so sure I can," she admitted.

"Don't they have a lounge or something? A place where you can sleep here?"

She remembered well his sleeping in the chair in her room in San Francisco, when she'd been scared, plagued by nightmares. She wanted to do that, to stay close for purely selfish reasons. So if she had another nightmare, when she woke up, she could see that he was there, perfectly safe, breathing. Living.

As if he could read her mind, he said: "Y'know, I think that couch does double-duty." He glanced across the room. He'd go fix it himself if he could.

She knew that the couches in the patient rooms, with a few practiced maneuvers, turned into a bed. But, what about his mother? "I don't want to take up space..."

He looked at her. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and he reached up, to place his hand over hers. "I'd feel better if you stayed."

How could she argue with that logic? "If you're sure..."

He nodded.

* * *

Morgan leaned against the Nerd Herd desk looking from Lester to Jeff and back again. "You guys wanna do me a favor?"

"Well, that depends, Morganstern. What are we doing?" Lester asked, eying the assistant manager suspiciously.

"Can you guys make a get-well-soon card for John Casey?" Morgan expected them to balk. He expected them to scoff and tell him they couldn't be bothered with such trifles. But, instead of that reaction, they looked at each other, with a surprising light in their eyes.

Lester cleared his throat, trying not to show that he'd been excited. "Yeah, I guess. Y'know. Since we can't exactly sell a refrigerator for 'the Casey,'" he said, complete with air quotes.

"Thanks, you guys," Morgan said. "Knew I could count on you." Although, as he walked away, he wasn't sure if that had been his greatest management decision ever.

Lester almost squealed. "This is _exactly_ what we need to bring Jeffster to the forefront of American culture! Hallmark? That's for sissies. We need gritty, cutting-edge, _rock-n-roll_ greeting cards!"

Jeff nodded enthusiastically. "I have some ideas for the front cover. But what will we put on the inside?"

Lester waved his hand dismissively. "Some heartfelt crap. Won't take two seconds to churn out. What do you have in mind for the art?"

Jeff smiled smugly. "Step into my office, kind sir," he said, leading Lester away from the sales floor and towards the Employee's Only corridor.

* * *

When Joan returned to the room, she had a copy of the day's paper tucked under her arm as well as a selection of toiletries for her son from the gift store. She hadn't expected to see the scene before her.

Ellie was asleep on the couch, still in her scrubs, covered with a thin blanket, her head angled towards him. Casey slept as well, his head turned towards her. If either woke, the first thing they would see would be the other.

Idly, Joan wondered who knew. Her money was on no one. Casey would've never admitted it because, after all, Ellie was married. She'd barely had the opportunity to meet Devon, but he'd seemed like a nice enough fellow.

While it had been like pulling teeth to get any information out of her son, she'd often asked about his friends, about the people in his life.

Begrudgingly, over the years, he'd filled her in on the Nerd Herd and Buy Morons, the hot dog honey turned yogurt slinger, as well as the doctors across the courtyard.

Upon further consideration, Joan changed her mind. Sarah might have an inkling. After all, it had been Joan's own partner who had known she'd marry Patrick Coburn before she did.

* * *

By the time Morgan signed the card, it was too late to change it. All the employees had scribbled their names within, including Big Mike and even some of the gals from Underpants, Etc. With the Big Mike seal of approval, all Morgan could do was deliver the artistic "genius" provided by Jeff and Lester.

As he wandered through the hospital, he hoped that Casey would accept the card in the spirit with which it was given, to try to brighten the big guy's day, to lift his spirits.

The front was covered with the Green Shirt Hotties, the models wearing little more than the Buy More polo and a smile. It was the inside, though, that made him wish he'd pawned the trip to see Casey off onto someone else.

Bunny, for example. Surely he wouldn't grunt, groan, or try to strangle Bunny.

On the inside was a poem, succinct and to the point:

_Roses are Red_

_Violets are Blue_

_We Heard You got Popped_

_So Feel Better Real soon!_

Maybe, Morgan decided, Casey would get distracted by all the signatures. Of course, across the lower half of the back, in bold letters, it very clearly read: "Jeffster! Productions TM."

He slowed his gait as he saw the guards standing outside Casey's room. "Uh... Hi, there. Morgan Grimes, Assistant Manager, Buy More, neighbor of Mr. Casey, there... Any way I can see him?"

After a brief radio conversation Morgan wasn't privy to, one of the guards held the door open for him and he quickly and quietly entered.

He spotted Casey first, followed by Ellie.

"Morgan, right?"

He jumped, startled, at the voice that spoke to him. He turned, spotting Joan. "Oh, hey, hi," he whispered. "Yeah, Morgan. How are you, Mrs. Casey?"

"I'm all right," she said with a nod. "Thank you for asking."

"How's, uh... how's our big guy?"

"Doing the best thing he can do for himself right now. Resting," she said.

He nodded. "So, Ellie's here, huh?" he commented.

She glanced up in time to see a strange look cross the bearded one's face. "She's a sweet girl."

"That she is," he said. He cleared his head of his thoughts, offering the card to Joan. "This is from everybody at the Buy More, with best wishes for Casey's speedy recovery."

Joan smiled politely as she accepted it. "I'll make sure he takes a look at it when he wakes."

"Oh, believe me, he doesn't have to take a very close look..." His smile was awkward, as he hoped she didn't open the envelope for Casey. He wasn't sure what Joan's sensibilities might be. "Anyway. You need anything, if your suits out there can't get it...," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the door. "I'd be happy to." He handed her one of his Buy More business cards he'd had printed up.

"Thank you, Morgan."

"Sure," he said, glancing at Ellie one last time before he left.

* * *

Sarah ran the scanner over the bar for the fifth time, trying not to sigh. She'd tried just about everything she could think. "Chuck, are you picking up anything?" she asked her watch.

Chuck's familiar voice was soon in her ear. "Scans are still empty."

"Casey said the only place she lingered long enough to plant something was at the bar."

There was silence for a moment. "Okay, so, Catalyst is supposed to be kinda badass, right?"

"Right..."

"So, she wouldn't leave something where we could find it easy, would she?"

"So, you're saying the bar is out?" she asked, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

"Not... not necessarily. I'm just saying... well... What would you do, Sarah?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You're pretty badass yourself," Chuck said, a smile evident in his voice.

"I wouldn't want to tip my hand too early."

"Okay, so, where do you hide it?"

Sarah began methodically checking the club. "Somewhere I could access it easily, somewhere I could activate it only when I was ready to make my move."

"Which would be... where?"

For a brief moment, Sarah closed her eyes, recreating the sequence when her partner was shot. She and Chuck were dancing. There were people everywhere. Casey was at the bar. The device would need to be small enough to be undetectable but large enough to cover the entire area of the club, to scramble their communications. Gasping, she opened her eyes.

"What?"

"Chuck, do you still have the video feed from last night up?"

"Where am I rewinding to?" he asked.

"When we realized coms went out."

"What am I looking for?" he asked, and she could hear his fingers fly across the keyboard.

"The waitress. Catalyst." Sarah began crossing towards the dance floor, towards where Casey was shot, where the blood still stained the hardwood. Debris was scattered about the scene. Tipped over drinks and chairs, even abandoned shoes and handbags. Once the shot had been fired, once it was clear someone had been shot, the patrons had scrambled into the night, to escape the nightmare.

"Sarah, check the--"

Sarah's scanner alerted her that what she was looking for was nearby. "Her tray..."

"Yeah," Chuck confirmed.

"Got'cha," Sarah murmured, picking up the small service tray. As she flipped it over, the jamming device was clearly attached to the bottom.

* * *

They worked like a well-oiled machine. Sarah dusted the tray and device for fingerprints, then Chuck ran the device through a diagnostics program, to determine the frequency, if there was anything amiss about the device itself. Once that was complete, they both worked to disassemble it, to examine it for any signatures or serial numbers that would allow them to backtrack the pieces, somehow, to Catalyst.

They were working so diligently that Beckman had to clear her throat a second time before Sarah realized that hadn't been Chuck.

"General," Sarah said, snapping to attention.

Chuck glanced up. "Oh... hey, there..."

Beckman tipped her head slightly. "Have we heard anything else on the Colonel's status?"

Chuck glanced at Sarah then back at the screen. "Uh... No. No, not really. He seems to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Been watching the room on the monitors from here."

"And Catalyst?"

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing back from the teams trying to locate her. However, we are attempting to ascertain her whereabouts from tech she abandoned at the scene."

"Keep me posted," Beckman said before quickly terminating the call.

Chuck turned to Sarah. "Is it just me, or did the General pop in early on her hourly check-in."

"Everybody's worried about Casey," she said simply.

* * *

Ellie rubbed her eyes as she slowly woke, hearing quiet voices.

Her gut instinct was to panic, but her more reserved state, the one she was trying to cultivate, told her to remain calm.

When she became aware of her surroundings, she smiled softly. "John..."

He glanced over as she was running her fingers through her hair. "Hey... How'd you sleep?"

She rubbed at the crick in her neck. "Fine."

"Feel like driving home now?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"Just thinking that you should get out of here, get a real meal... and strong-arm my mother into a hotel," he said simply.

"Like a hotel will be any nicer than your accommodations here," sighed Joan. "Like I'll even spend any time there at all."

"I have a guest room," Ellie offered.

Both Caseys looked at her.

"You're more than welcome to it. We're not far from the hospital... We can make something real and delicious to eat, possibly smuggle it back in here for you," she said, looking at Casey.

"Agreed," Joan said before Casey could protest.

* * *

Devon arrived home to the smell of something marvelous. There was music and laughter from the kitchen. He smiled a little as he stepped into his living room, fully expecting to see a houseful. Sarah and Ellie in the kitchen. Morgan and Chuck talking about something he couldn't even begin to understand.

Except, that wasn't the case.

He stopped cold when he noted that it was Joan at the counter with Ellie, talking like they were long-time friends. It was a story he'd heard Ellie tell a hundred times. "It just kept growing and growing. And, oh, Joan, it popped like a water balloon! It went absolutely _everywhere_. I wound up cleaning the kitchen for _weeks_. Every time I thought I had taken care of all of it, I'd turn around, and there would be more evidence of my spectacular exploding souffle." Ellie seasoned the chicken, turning it over to do the same to the other side.

Joan chuckled warmly, chopping a head of lettuce. "Oh, dear, that's nothing. I was not a very good cook when I met and married John's father. There were many, many disasters before anything was edible at all. I'll never forget trying to prepare lasagna for his CO... Lasagna is pretty straight forward. All you do is layer... Except, just as I had gotten all of it together, I started to pick it up. I had no idea how heavy it was going to be... Ellie, it looked like a lasagna bomb had gone off. I never would've imagined one pan being able to spread saucy goo from one side of the kitchen to the other."

Ellie gasped. "What did you do?"

Joan smiled, more of a smirk. "Patrick cleaned the kitchen and I picked up take-out from the Italian restaurant, plated it up like I'd made it."

He wasn't sure why it hurt, to hear his wife laugh, but it did. It wasn't so much that he didn't like Joan. He hadn't spoken with her enough to really form an opinion about her, one way or the other. It was that he'd never seen Ellie get along with his mother like that. Cooking together. Having a good time together. Enjoying each others company.

But, Ellie and Honey had nothing in common. He'd always hoped that his mother and Ellie would get along, but every time they got together, they were like oil and water. Honey loved going for the outdoor runs and bike rides, while Ellie'd rather be in the kitchen. There was only one thing that his mother was less than awesome at, and that was cooking. Meals were always perfect with his family because some professional had prepared them.

"Hey, El..."

She looked up. "Devon..." Guilt crossed her face for all of two seconds. "Dinner'll be ready in about an hour..."

He tried to smile. He really did. "Awesome," he managed.

* * *

Without his mother or Ellie around, Casey didn't prevent the pain from reaching his face. He was in more kinds of pain than he was aware were possible. He kept telling himself that it came with the job description and, for the most part, he bought that.

The thought he kept coming back to was that Ellie had been calling him "the saint" for months now. After all, he'd saved her twice.

While he was a protestant, he was aware that Catholics had procedures before someone could become canonized and he was certain that it included three miracles... and death.

And he'd almost accomplished the last two feats last night.

He forced the wince from his features, demanding that they ease when he heard the door open.

"Hey, big guy," said Morgan. "Mind if I come in?"

Casey managed a half smile. "Sure."

Morgan entered the room. He cleared his throat nervously when he saw the card from the Buy More and the "creative" team of Jeffster on the nightstand. "See you got the card."

Casey grunted, mostly entertained.

Morgan eased into the empty chair Joan had vacated earlier. "So..."

"So," Casey repeated. He wasn't sure why the bearded one had come for a visit.

"Your mom seems like a sweetheart..."

"She is," he confirmed.

"Kinda hard to believe--"

Casey sighed, fighting the urge to close his eyes and ignore the troll.

"Right," Morgan said, getting to the point. "So, I'm gonna pull a page from Ellie's book, here, Casey. I'm taking off the Buy More green and the neighborly Mr. Rogers' sweater. Now, I may not have a degree from some accredited university or even the El Segundo School of Finance, but I have a Ph.D from the school of hard knocks."

Casey snickered, but it wasn't mean-spirited. It was amused, almost appreciative.

"So, what do you say? How 'bout a session with Dr. Morgan?" he asked, resting his chin on his closed fist.

Casey hated to admit it, but he was curious. "Sure."

"Tell me," Morgan began, "how long have you been in love with Ellie?"

Casey blamed the pain medications for being caught completely off-guard. "What?"

Morgan's motives were pure in asking the question. He wanted to help. And he'd seen something, so very clearly, within the past twenty-four hours, he wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page. "C'mon, big guy. Let's be honest. This is a safe place."

"Morgan, that's..." He shook his head.

"It doesn't take a _spy_ to see what goes on. The way you look at her, the way you treat her. The rest of us, it's pretty clear you could take or leave, but Ellie... I've never seen you snap at her. I've never seen you growl at her."

Casey didn't look at him--he couldn't. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you need to stop it. Right now."

"Casey--"

"_No_," he said sternly.

"Hear me out," Morgan pleaded.

Casey took a slow, calming breath, his eyes critically sizing up the shorter man. He'd give "Dr." Morgan a little leeway. But not much.

"I get it. I do. She's married. You're an honorable man. There's a lot of reasons why not."

Casey grunted in agreement.

"But, let me tell you something. It's an easy thing to do, fall in love with Eleanor Fay. Believe me, I know from experience. I mean, c'mon. I fell in love with her at the age of, like, six. Before I was fully aware of what it even _meant_. What's not to love? She's smart, caring, funny and drop-dead, stunningly gorgeous."

Casey certainly wouldn't argue with that.

"She's the living embodiment of the American dream. She's mom, apple pie and baseball, all in one delectable package. And doesn't matter, by the way, Dodgers _and_ Angels."

Casey chose his response carefully. "It may be an easy thing to do, but I haven't done it."

Morgan scoffed. After all, he'd seen this same scene play out before, with Chuck about Sarah. "You spies are all alike, you know that? Lie to me all you want. Lie to yourself. But, there's one thing that betrays you. It's your heart. The heart doesn't lie. It can't."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Morgan," he said, his voice strained.

"It's okay, big guy. It happens to the best of us, trust me."

Casey opened his mouth, but what could he say? Clearly, Morgan wasn't buying it. "I didn't mean for it to happen," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, because here's the thing... The _important_ thing. She looks at you the same way you look at her."

Casey entertained that thought for one brief moment. He thought about what it would be like, to be with Ellie, to be honest with himself, to be honest with her, with the rest of the world. After that one moment, however, he shook his head, successfully shoving that utopia aside. "Don't, Morgan, okay? It's not going to happen. It should never happen. So, let's just end this session before you go any further."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment...

Casey tried desperately to calm down. The monitors behind his head beeped loudly and irregularly. He knew his blood pressure had skyrocketed. Unless he calmed down, he was afraid some doctor would have to check on him. And that was the very last thing he wanted.

He tried to regulate his breathing. That made him nearly hyperventilate.

He tried visualization techniques. All he could see when he closed his eyes was his world falling apart, becoming completely different and new, and it was frightening to him.

Morgan knew. Morgan had _seen_ how he felt about Ellie. How was that possible? Because it just wasn't true.

Except, the more he lied to himself, the more lightheaded he felt.


	9. Chapter 8

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Posting early for a good reason... To wish a very Happy Birthday to my "teammate," Raevon! Many, many wishes for a wonderful, phenomenal, (dare I say it...) _awesome _year. ;) ~K

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Exhausted, Ellie sleeps in Casey's hospital room. Morgan gets Jeff and Lester to create Casey's get-well soon card from the store. Sarah finds the jamming device Catalyst used at the club. Ellie offers to let Joan stay at her apartment in the guest room. Morgan stops by to see Casey and asks him a question out of the blue: how long has Casey been in love with Ellie?

* * *

Morgan closed the door to Casey's room and sighed. He thought it had been a good session, that the big guy had learned a thing or two, and that he'd been left with plenty to consider. But, Morgan left with one raincloud thought.

What if it had all backfired? What if John Casey chose to ignore everything they'd just talked about? It was clear--crystal clear--that he loved her. It had been a breakthrough, getting him to admit to it aloud. But, now what?

He nodded towards the guards before heading towards the elevator. Along the way, he bumped into a nurse. The raven-haired beauty's smile was almost bashful. Morgan immediately apologized. "I am so sorry."

"Oh, no, it was my fault," she said in a breathy, warm voice.

He might've thought she was cute if he'd been able to think about something other than Casey and Ellie at that moment. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Are you?"

"Oh, yeah. Just... y'know, it's painful. When you see emotions so clearly and people want to just... deny them."

She shyly tucked her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Say you've got two friends, right? Two friends who are madly in love with each other. I mean, it's as plain as the noses on their faces. But, neither of them will do anything about it. Love is hard enough, y'know? Why fight against it? Why not just go with it?"

"Sage points," she said with a smile, winking at him.

Morgan grinned, really noticing the petite nurse for the first time. "Why, thank you. I like to consider myself a sidewalk philosopher, y'know?"

"You must know someone famous or infamous to have come out of that room with the bodyguards," she said, nodding down the hallway.

Morgan scoffed. "If you only knew the half of it."

"What is he, a politician or something?"

"Or something. Definitely the 'or something.'" A little light bulb went off over his head. "Where are my manners?" He held his hand out to her. "Hi, there. Morgan Grimes."

"Catherine," she said, placing her hand into his.

"Catherine," he repeated. "It's very nice to meet you." With a roguish grin, he lifted her hand, brushing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

She blushed, glancing away. As she turned to see Casey's room, the softness in her eyes was replaced with ice cold steel.

* * *

After dinner, Ellie convinced Joan to get some rest. While it might have been only seven in L.A., it was already nine in Chicago, and the dear woman hadn't slept since she'd gotten off the plane.

Ellie washed the dishes, cleaning her kitchen. She could feel Devon's eyes on her, but she didn't have anything to say to him. And, clearly, he didn't have anything to say to her.

Chuck was her brother. Her baby brother. He'd been her responsibility for as long as she could remember. She'd thought they had a relationship where he could tell her anything.

But, they didn't because Chuck had confided in Devon. And Devon, in turn, had betrayed her trust.

The wounds were new and deep. They cut through to her very soul. Every time she stopped to think about the lies, it was like a new sore opened up, became infected, and threatened to bring her to her knees.

With her kitchen back in order, the only thing left to do was to pack up some leftovers to take to the hospital. She and Joan had been careful to create a heart-healthy dinner, one that Casey's surgeons wouldn't complain about too much. Ellie's mandarin salad with homemade vinaigrette, baked lemon-pepper chicken, and fresh green beans.

Devon finally spoke as she grabbed her car keys. "Going back to see him?"

She looked up slowly. "Is that a problem?" she asked. She had a feeling one of those words she'd grown to hate might emerge from her husband's lips.

"I'd rather us talk first," he said, moving a step closer to her.

He'd had all that time after dinner to talk, but he hadn't said a word. He'd just watched her. She took a slow breath. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about."

"I didn't do anything different than you did. Than Casey did."

"John was doing his job. I was doing mine."

Devon rolled his eyes, sighing. "So you've said."

"So I've said? Devon, it's the truth. John's entire job is classified. Portions of mine are, too."

"They took me into their confidence, just like they did with you. Nothing I did was any different from what Casey did, from what _you_ did!"

"No. You kept something from me about _my family_."

"So did _Casey_!" he said angrily. "He didn't tell you about Chuck either."

"He's a Marine! He's in the National Security Agency! I think, if he'd told me, that might've qualified as _treason_."

"I just don't understand the double-standard here. I don't see how I wound up the _bad guy_ here. You're not squeaky clean in this either, babe," he said with a huff.

"You're my husband, Devon. You're supposed to be my family, too."

"I gave Chuck my word," he countered. "I promised Chuck, Sarah, _and_ Casey that I wouldn't reveal the secret."

"You made all sorts of vows and promises to me, too. In fact, we made them to _each other_, but apparently I'm the only one who has to 'obey' those."

Devon shook his head. "That's not the case at all."

"It isn't? Because, it seems to me that it doesn't matter _what _I ask you, whether it has to do with Chuck or not. Whatever I ask, anything I ask, you just avoid. Last week, before John got shot, before I learned about _everything else, _you had lunch with our boss, the hospital Chief of Staff. Do you remember?" Off his nod, she continued. "And I asked how it went. And instead of saying what the two of you talked about or if it was a productive lunch or a scary lunch or even a delicious lunch... You start talking about traffic and weather... You danced all around what I wanted to know. That's just one example out of thousands in the past months."

Devon glanced away from her. He wanted to tell her that it was all related back to Chuck, that he'd been getting lessons in lying. That he hadn't even had lunch with the Chief of Staff because he'd run over to the Orange Orange for another lesson with Sarah. But he didn't. He couldn't. He knew saying it aloud would only serve to make things worse.

She took a slow breath. "You're right, though. I have kept something from you. Just one thing: knowing about John. But, I'm right, too. You've kept something from me..." Her voice broke and her eyes watered, but she didn't dare shed a tear. "Devon, lately, you've kept your whole life from me."

"Ellie, that's..." He couldn't tell her she was wrong there because she wasn't. He sighed, leaning against the arm of the couch.

She waited, watching, as nothing followed. She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll be at the hospital."

* * *

Casey tried desperately to calm down. The monitors behind his head beeped loudly and irregularly since Morgan had left. He knew his blood pressure had skyrocketed. Unless he calmed down, he was afraid some doctor would have to check on him. And that was the very last thing he wanted.

He tried to regulate his breathing. That made him nearly hyperventilate.

He tried visualization techniques. All he could see when he closed his eyes was his world falling apart, becoming completely different and new, and it was frightening to him.

Morgan knew. Morgan had _seen_ how he felt about Ellie. How was that possible? Because it just wasn't true.

Except, the more he lied to himself, the more lightheaded he felt.

His blue eyes widened in panic as the door opened. While it was a doctor, it wasn't the one he expected. He calmed instantly when he saw Ellie's tender smile.

"Hey," she murmured.

"Hey," he managed to say back.

"As promised," she said, holding up a tote bag. From it, she pulled a plastic container. "Home-cooked meal. Are you hungry?"

"Not right now," he admitted. Given his roller coaster of the last ten minutes, he decided that it was probably best to wait.

She set the container on the table before easing to sit in the chair by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Torn." The word tumbled out before he had the presence of mind to stop it.

She stood, worried. She moved closer to him, reaching out to check his bandage. "Did you pull your stitches?"

He caught her hands before she had done more than brush her fingertips across his bare skin. "They're fine."

"But..."

"That's not what I meant," he admitted. He kept hold of her hands for a moment before reluctantly releasing them.

"What's wrong, John?"

He tried to think of how to tell her. Because, surely she should know, right? She should know he was a bad guy. He was a bad guy who killed people. A bad guy who lusted after another man's wife. He tried to think of a way to make it sound less horrible, but he just couldn't.

"Chuck..." She paused, to gather her thoughts, to try to help him. "Chuck told me that you wanted me to know you were sorry. Why?"

"The way we left things before... before I got shot..." He spoke deliberately, as if each word threatened to get lodged in his throat on its way out.

She shook her head. "John... You had absolutely nothing to apologize for."

Except, he did. He'd wanted to ensure that she knew he'd never meant to hurt her. But, now that he lived, he still felt that distance was their best course of action.

Someday, down the line, when she and Devon had a child or two, she'd realize that it really was for the best, for all of them. Because, he was a killer and killers didn't have families.

Beautiful doctors did.

Ellie tried to catch his eye, but he refused to look at her. "John," she pleaded in a whisper.

He swallowed hard. "Ellie, we shouldn't."

She shook her head. "You can't be sorry for it then turn around and say that's what you want again. If there's been one thing about you that I love, it's your consistency. And that's not constant. That's not you."

"I've been trying to help you, Ellie, help with your relationship with Devon..."

"I shouldn't have asked you for so much advice. That's my fault."

"No, Ellie. We've always..." He stopped. He'd said too much already.

"We've always what?" she pressed gently.

Casey shook his head.

"I think we're way past the point of no return, John. I know about you, about Chuck and Sarah. What have you always done?"

He hated himself for saying it, but he finished his initial thought. "We've always tried to help you and Devon."

She tried to make that sentence make sense, but she was having a hard time. "I don't follow. What do you mean?"

He shook his head.

"Just one thing, then," she tried. "Tell me one thing that you've done."

He thought for a few minutes how best to explain and what to reveal. "Let's just say I had a black-ops Marine ask me how to spell begonias one time."

She smiled a little. After all, it sounded absurd and she wasn't sure how that answered the question she posed until she remembered carrying a bouquet across the sand. A bouquet filled with begonias. Her jaw dropped. "Oh, my God, John, did you... Did you plan my wedding?"

He sort of nodded. "It's not all that different than organizing a mission. The same basic principal applies. How do you get equipment and people where they need to be at a specified time?"

"Oh, my God, John," she repeated. "You did. You... You planned my dream wedding. How did you know?"

He looked up at her. "My job is to know everything."

"But, there were other things. Other times...?"

"Ellie, please don't make me say anymore about this."

"I just... I just want to know: how much of my marriage has been a lie?"

"Devon loves you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I can't answer it for you. All I can tell you is that we tried. Maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe it's what's caused your problems in the first place."

"Or, maybe it just delayed the inevitable." She sighed. "Honestly, John, what's going on with me and Devon... it's not your concern. The NSA or the CIA or whatever."

"We swore him to secrecy. _I _swore you to secrecy."

"No. You answered questions while under my care, which is protected by doctor-patient privilege. As much as you and Devon and, who knows, Sarah and Chuck and Morgan might think otherwise, that is a very distinctive difference."

He watched her, the way her eyes caught the light, the emotion he could see within them. He exhaled, closing his eyes. "The point is, Ellie, who knows what could've happened if spies never entered your life."

"There's no point in playing the what-if game. The facts are unchangeable. We all know the truth. And Devon and I are... not getting along." It was the mildest way she could put it.

He took a slow breath. "Ellie, there's probably something else you need to know."

She braced herself for another earth-shattering revelation.

The words he said to Morgan kept replaying in his head. _I didn't mean for it to happen_. And he didn't. God, he didn't.

He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. He'd tell her and then, whatever the reaction, he'd increase the dosage on the pain medication and he could forget all about it. Especially if it was a bad reaction.

But, that was cowardly. No, he couldn't do that. He'd just have to bite the bullet. He'd just have to tell her and take the reaction--good or, most likely, bad--in stride.

He ran a hand over his face. "I've seen this happen, a hundred times before. It usually ends badly..." Sarah and Bryce came to mind. To some extent, Sarah and Chuck as well, though they were doing better.

Ellie had no idea where he was going. "John, you're scaring me a little here," she admitted quietly.

"It's probably just the adrenaline. Or some other bio-chemical reaction. Probably something you can explain a hell of a lot better than I can."

She shrugged slightly, shaking her head. She was still lost. In the hopes of guiding him towards the right path, towards spitting it out, whatever_ it _was, she reached out, placing her hand lightly over top of his.

He wasn't sure if her touch was going to make his admission harder or easier. He looked at her hand on his, feeling the warmth, the softness. He took a slow breath, determined to get through it, to let the truth out, because the truth would set him free, one way or another. He looked up at her, his blue eyes locking with hers. "Ellie... I'm in love with you."

* * *

Chuck had his feet propped up on the desk, watching his sister and Casey share some moment. He really wished they had sound capabilities. For a while, he made up their conversation, anything to keep himself preoccupied. When he wasn't focused on something, his mind would wander and he would realize that he was, essentially, captive within the Castle dungeon.

"Oh, Casey, your bandage is askew," he said in his best high-pitched "Ellie" voice as she reached for the gauze on Casey's chest.

"Confound it, woman, leave me be," he said in his best Casey, adding a grunt for good measure as Casey caught her hands.

"But, I'm a doctor, and I must..."

"I'm a Marine. My bandage can be askew or even a dirty old dishrag, doesn't matter. Why, I can catch bullets with my teeth..."

"And with your chest, too..."

Chuck paused, scrunching up his face before speaking with his own voice. "Sorry, there, big guy, poor taste. And Ellie wouldn't actually say that."

He cleared his throat, back as Casey: "I laugh in the face of danger, ha ha. And, by the way, I saved your scrawny little brother from certain danger."

"My hero!" Chuck said, faux swooning.

He nearly fell out of his chair when the door from the Orange Orange closed and Sarah began her descent into the Castle. He tried to act casual, but it was a foregone conclusion. She'd seen him. "H-hey, Sarah. Hey. How's it going?"

She smiled innocently. "Hope you're hungry."

"Starving," he acknowledged.

She glanced at the screen at the front of the room and saw exactly what she figured he was watching: the footage from the hospital. "Ellie went back by to see him?"

Chuck shrugged. "Morgan talked to him for a bit. Then Ellie came by. Guy's popular today."

"He could've very easily died last night."

"I'm aware," Chuck said quietly as he accepted the bacon cheeseburger in all its greasy goodness from Sarah. Hungrily, he unwrapped the burger, savoring a big bite. He sighed happily as he chewed. "So, where are we with Catalyst?"

Sarah shrugged, settling into her chair. "Everybody keeps coming up empty. We've checked the airport, the train station, the bus stations, cab companies... She hasn't left yet."

"Maybe she's lying low?"

"Catalyst has been this ghost, right?"

"Sure," Chuck said before taking another big mouthful of burger.

"A ghost with a perfect record. Last night, it's the first time she missed her mark. Last night, it's the first time she didn't accomplish her mission. She's not the type of agent that can leave without completing her job."

He swallowed quickly. "The only known image of Catalyst is that one," he said, pointing towards one of the smaller screens. "How do we know that's what she really looks like? Can't she have one of those, y'know, Mission: Impossible masks? A little movie magic and, voila, she looks like Nicole Kidman or something?"

Sarah sighed, looking at her as-yet untouched burger. She set it down on the table, crossing towards the computer terminal at the front of the room and pulled up the facial recognition scanner. "If she hasn't left yet, maybe she's looking where we're looking." Faces were scanned outside the apartment at Echo Park, in and around the Buy More and the mall, as well as the hospital. "Let's see what we find," she said, moving back to sit down next to him.

Chuck ate quietly, watching the large screen again, at Ellie and Casey talking. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Sarah followed his gaze as she lowered the paper to take her first bite. "I dunno," she said, trying to read Casey's lips as he spoke.

"They look kinda serious... don't you think?"

_It's probably just the adrenaline. Or some other bio-chemical reaction. Probably something you can explain a hell of a lot better than I can._ She frowned, chewing thoughtfully. Where was he going with that? _Ellie... I'm in love with you._

Sarah gasped, dropping her burger onto the previously spotless Castle floor.

"Sarah? You okay?" He looked back to see that the screen held her rapt attention. "What? What is it?" He couldn't make heads or tails out of what was going on. He wished the camera placement was better, so that he could see his sister's face. "What just happened? What did I miss?"

Sarah couldn't speak. And if she couldn't speak, she could only imagine what Ellie was thinking at the moment, what was going through the doctor's head. Casey's face was unreadable, but his attention was focused solely on the woman in front of him, on the woman he _loved_.

"Sarah?" Chuck asked again, reaching out to touch her arm.

She finally looked at him, astonishment written all over her face.

Chuck sighed as his cell phone rang. "What'd he say?" he asked, his brows knit in concern. She didn't respond right away, so he answered his phone. "Hey, Morgan."

"Bro, I met the _hottest_ girl. Seriously, she's amazing. Well, okay, she ties for hotness with Sarah and Ellie, but she's just... phenomenal."

"He told her," Sarah managed.

"That's awesome, buddy," he said to Morgan before returning his attention to Sarah. "He said what exactly?"

"He told her he loves her."

"He... he did _what_?"

"You sound busy over there, bro. What's up?" Morgan asked.

"Just, watchin' a movie with Sarah," he said as innocently as he could. "Jayne Eyre or Jane Austen or somebody. Pride and Bullheadedness or Much Ado About... Something. Hang on," he said, covering the microphone on his cell. "Are you saying... that he... but she's still... and what about..."

Sarah shrugged, looking back at the screen.

* * *

If sweet, innocent, gullible Morgan Grimes knew the man she had shot, then it stood to reason that he might know her intended target. Her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted the agents milling about in interior courtyard of the apartment complex. But, she needed to find out for certain about Agent Carmichael.

She didn't stay long outside, as she didn't want to be spotted. She had a new plan of attack, however. She'd do a little digging into Morgan's background and see where he might fit into the bigger picture.

She ran her fingers through her long, black hair, thankful to have her original tresses back. The red wig from the club had been itchy.

* * *

The silence was killing him. He should've known better. He should never have said anything. He should've never allowed Morgan to play pop psychologist. She just looked at him with those wide, hazel eyes. He finally looked away, his heart shattering as he broke eye contact. "Which is why we shouldn't be friends, why we shouldn't... Why I was trying to tell you that we shouldn't be around each other, because Devon loves you. And I don't want to come between the two of you. That's not... that's not the kind of man that I am, Ellie, you have to know that--"

"John..."

He looked at her, waiting for her to yell at him, to tell him he was crazy.

"I'm sure you've never heard this sentence before, but you're talking too much."

His expression changed from being braced for the worst to cautious curiosity.

"I... I feel the same way."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Call Morgan," Sarah said. "See if he knows how to contact her."

Chuck sighed. "I really don't think involving Morgan in an operation is the best idea here..."

"We don't have much choice. He's our best lead."

Wishing Morgan hadn't _kissed_ the hand that had tried to kill Casey, Chuck called his best friend and roommate.


	10. Chapter 9

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot. After Morgan visits Casey, he meets a beautiful nurse in the hospital who isn't all she seems. Devon and Ellie have another argument. Casey confesses to Ellie that Team Bartowski has tried to help hers marriage all along and that he was the one who planned the wedding. He also confesses that he loves her. Sarah and Chuck, watching from Castle, learn of his admission. Ellie confides that she feels the same way.

* * *

Casey's eyes were guarded as he looked at her. There was something else, another shoe to drop. He could sense that there was more to their situation than she was saying yet. "But, I lied to you, too."

She shook her head. "You had to protect your identity. I understand that."

"That identity..." He hesitated. "There are so many other things you don't know about me."

"They're classified. "

"It's not just that," he told her. "It's so much more."

"John, everybody comes with baggage, with issues."

"This is more serious than that," he strained. "I've killed people."

"I was there for one of them," she reminded him gently.

"_Lots_ of people."

"You did it for your job, right?"

He nodded.

"You followed your orders. You did what you were supposed to do."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's more of a moral quandary for most people."

"I was two feet away from a man you killed. You killed him to protect me."

"I killed him to protect your _brother_," he admitted. "Your brother's identity. And to prevent him from kidnapping you. But, my main objective, above all else, is to protect Chuck."

She looked at him. The thoughts came quickly, one after the other, almost too many to process. "John, your getting shot..."

He took a slow breath. "I was not the intended target."

She closed her eyes as she thought about someone going after her brother, her closest family member. A wave of nausea crashed over her at the revelation that someone wanted to _kill_ her little brother. The little brother she used to make Star Trek insignia-shaped sandwiches for so he could have something fun at lunch. The little brother she waited tables for so he could have new school clothes. The little brother she watched out for, the little brother she protected. He had a new protector. A bigger, stronger one. "Where is Chuck now?" she asked quietly.

"He's in a safe place."

She shook her head slowly. "I feel like the world's biggest idiot," she admitted.

"Why?"

"I never saw any of this coming. Even before I knew about you, I would've never... I mean, some things sounded really strange. Chuck always running around. And then Devon and Chuck hanging out a _lot_. But, this... in my wildest imagination, I never would've pictured all of this."

"That was the original plan," he told her.

"I thought I was protecting Chuck. I thought I was still doing _my_ job..."

"You've always kept him grounded. And that serves to protect him."

She looked up at him.

"Without having you around, without having some aspect of his life that was still 'normal,' still familiar... I don't think he'd be able to do what we need him to do."

"How does my brother, Charles Irving Bartowski, become a _spy_ anyway? What, exactly, does he do for you?"

"There will always be certain things I'll never be able to tell you. And that's one of them."

She nodded. After all, what else could she do? "I have to come up with a new nickname for you," she decided.

"Why's that?"

"If your job has always been to protect Chuck, I imagine then that the number of miracles you've performed is quite a bit higher than three."

He grunted. "John works just fine." So few people called him that. It was nice to hear her say it.

* * *

"Buddy, I'm gonna have to call you back," Chuck said, closing his phone without waiting for Morgan to say it was okay. "He _told_ her?"

She nodded.

"What did she say back?" he demanded.

"I don't know, Chuck," Sarah said, moving again towards the front of the room and the computer terminal. Her eyes critically reviewing the screen, she isolated the heart monitoring machine, blowing it up on a different screen and flipping the image.

Chuck moved closer, to see what she was up to. When the rendering finished, he was able to see his sister, barely, in the reflection on the face of the machine.

"She says..." She smiled. "She said he's talking too much."

"Casey? She says _Casey_ is taking too much?"

"And..." She drifted off, smiling a little.

"And? And what?"

She looked over at Chuck. Her smile faded, as she wasn't sure how he'd take it, or if it was really her place to even share. "Well, I... She..."

"Sarah..."

She stopped the rendering and even killed the main screen.

"No, no, wait! What? Why did you do that?"

"Whatever happens, whatever becomes of tonight, they'll tell us. When they're ready to tell us. We shouldn't be spying on them right now, it's a private moment."

"All of my private moments have been captured from three different video angles and recorded on two different microphones. A little turn about is fair play, don't you think?"

"You really want to spy on your sister?"

"But, he told her he loves her... And she..."

"You're the one person who knows her best. How do you think she'd respond?"

Chuck looked at the darkened screen. He did better than think. He _knew_.

* * *

Ellie stayed at Casey's bedside, quietly talking with him for an hour. He eventually grew hungry and ate at least part of what she'd brought for him.

He watched as she packed the meal back away, sliding the container back into her tote bag. "You should go home," he told her.

"I hate to leave you here."

"I'm not by myself. There's an entire team of agents standing outside my door."

She sighed, looking at him.

"I'll still be here when you come back tomorrow," he promised.

Hesitantly, she reached out, tentatively lacing her fingers with his. "If you need anything..."

"Don't worry about me."

"Still," she said with a sigh.

He looked at their entwined fingers. "There is one thing you could do..."

"What's that?"

"Let me know you get home safe?"

She smiled a little, nodding.

* * *

After looking up basic information on Morgan, she hacked into the Buy More corporate website, accessing internal servers. She located Morgan's employee history as well as pulling up his coworkers. She sat back, recognizing her target as the Nerd Herd supervisor, as well as the man she'd shot as being on the management track, filling in as assistant manager from time to time.

From the employee records, she was able to tell that the three all lived in the same apartment building. Chuck and Morgan as roommates, Casey as their neighbor.

A slow smile took to her lips. Completing her plan might be easier than she thought.

* * *

Chuck wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, he loved his sister and wanted her to be happy, bottom line. If Casey made her happy, then that was all that mattered. He could learn to live with Casey becoming more than just a grunting, snarling neighbor and co-worker. He imagined that Ellie might have an influence on the big guy. He wasn't sure what a kinder, gentler Casey might look like, but it would be interesting to see.

On the other, he had a genuine fondness for his brother-in-law. Devon might not have always been the brightest crayon in the box, but he was dependable. That had to count for something, didn't it? Sure, the adventure-sports cardiologist could be annoyingly awesome, but he was also a source of encouragement and even unusual knowledge, from tango lessons to Amsterdam travel tips.

Chuck started to wonder, though, if isolating Ellie from the truth had been what had led them all to this particular moment in time, where she might have to choose between the killer next door and her lying husband. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

He opened them, however, when he heard the computer ding. On one of the smaller screens, where Sarah had begun the tedious process of running the facial-recognition scanner on every security camera against the known photo of Catalyst. It had a match. "Hey, Sarah!" he called, crossing to the computer terminal.

She emerged from further within the Castle.

"We got 'er!"

She sprinted the rest of the way, stopping next to Chuck.

"Oh, no," Chuck said with a sigh, watching Morgan chat her up. "He's seriously got this thing for moderately dangerous women, doesn't he? Anna, she was... She wasn't a killer or anything, but she was, y'know... And then there was Carina. And now _Catalyst_."

"Call Morgan," Sarah said. "See if he knows how to contact her."

Chuck sighed. "I really don't think involving Morgan in an operation is the best idea here..."

"We don't have much choice. He's our best lead."

Wishing Morgan hadn't _kissed_ the hand that had tried to kill Casey, Chuck called his best friend and roommate.

* * *

One of the things Morgan liked most about video games was the ability to be someone else, to be greater than himself. And, if Chuck could become a spy, there might be hope for him yet, to change the world, to make it a better place. In the meantime, until that hope became reality, he'd control Kratos as he attempted to battle Zeus in God of War III.

He paused it, however, when his cell phone rang. He smiled as he saw Chuck's name on the caller-ID. "Hey, bro."

"Hey, Morgan, I..." Chuck hesitated. "I need to know about the girl you met."

"The hotness that rivals that of the sexy Sarah and the elegant Ellie?"

"Did you get her phone number?"

Morgan scoffed. "Did I get her phone number? C'mon, bro, this is me you're talking to..."

"Which is why I had to ask, buddy," Chuck said.

Morgan huffed. "Yes, I got her number. But, I'm not supposed to call yet, right? She just gave it to me like two hours ago. I want to portray casual indifference, yeah? So, I'm thinking, today is Saturday... Call maybe Tuesday? For something completely benign. Sharin' a slice at the pizza house a couple blocks from here. Or maybe some fro-yo at the Orange Orange. That way, she can meet you and Sarah... It'll _look_ like a casual, happy accident, but it'll actually be a carefully orchestrated plot. Huh? Sounds like a spy-like plan to me."

"I need you not to freak out, okay?"

"What am I not freaking out over?"

"Your new girlfriend..."

Morgan nearly sputtered. "She's not officially my girlfriend yet. Let's not jinx it."

"You can't date her."

"C'mon, Chuck--"

"She's the one that tried to kill Casey."

Morgan dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor at his feet.

"Buddy? Morgan? Are you there?" Chuck sounded so far away.

He slowly sank to the ground, grabbing the phone and hiding behind the couch. "My new girlfriend? The hotness, the innocence, the sweetness that was Nurse Catherine, she's..."

The next voice he heard wasn't Chuck's, and that made him jump. It was only Sarah who'd taken the phone, however. "Morgan, this is very important and I need you to listen to me carefully, all right?"

"Yeah, uh-huh. Sure."

"In Chuck's bedroom, beneath his bed, there's a black case. I need you to get it and take something out of it for me."

Morgan started crawling towards Chuck's room. He figured one couldn't be too careful! "What is it?"

"It's a small device. It's going to look like a power supply for a laptop, only smaller with shorter cords. One end will have headphone jack. The other will be a USB."

On the one hand, he was thrilled to be involved in something that was, clearly, spy-related. On the other, he was relatively petrified that he'd been that close to someone who'd tried to kill someone he knew. Once he reached Chuck's room, he located the case and opened it. Within, there were all kinds of devices. After scrounging around for a moment, he smiled. "Sarah, I think I found it."

"Now, I want you to plug the headphone jack into your phone."

Morgan did as he was told. "Got it."

"USB goes into Chuck's computer."

He slid over to the computer, plugging the USB into one of the empty ports. The computer, sensing the equipment, popped open a user name and password window. "It wants some details here, the computer--"

"Don't worry," Sarah said.

Morgan watched, in astonishment, as the information was entered remotely. "That's pretty cool."

"Now, Morgan, I need you to call her."

"I'm sorry, I thought you said you wanted me to call the crazed person who tried to kill NSA _badass_ John Casey."

"That's what we need you to do."

"You gotta be kidding me. Sarah, there's no way I can do that."

"Morgan, you have to. All you have to do is keep her talking for thirty seconds. It'll be enough for us to run a trace on her phone."

"Can't I just give you her number?"

"Do this for Casey. For Chuck. For your country."

Morgan took a slow breath. "Yeah, all right..."

"I'll put a counter on the computer. You'll see exactly how long you need to talk to her."

"But, isn't she working? I mean, she's a nurse and there are lots of places in there that she can't have a cell phone."

"She's not a real nurse, Morgan. She's not at the hospital. She left shortly after you did."

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. "Yeah, okay."

"Thirty seconds, Morgan, that's all," she reminded.

* * *

Ellie let herself into the darkened apartment. She turned, waving at the agents that had followed her home from the hospital. One dipped his head in return.

She set the tote bag in the kitchen before crossing to the living room and kicking off her shoes. Easing to sit on the couch, she removed her cell phone, calling Casey's room number.

"Yeah?"

"I'm home," she said simply.

"Thanks, Ellie," he said.

"I'll be back, first thing in the morning."

"Don't rush on my account."

"John..."

"Yeah?"

She didn't want to hang up but she didn't necessarily have anything to say. She stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Good night," she said finally, sighing softly.

"Sleep well," he returned softly.

* * *

"How badly do you think this is gonna go?" Chuck asked, nervously pacing back and forth.

"It won't be as bad as you fear," Sarah said, waiting and watching.

"This is Morgan we're talking about."

"Chuck, I'm glad you were able to prevent Morgan from freaking out, but you need to prevent yourself from freaking out right now."

"It's kind of hard to do. Morgan found himself a psycho Ring assassin for a would-be girlfriend. This has _freak out_ written all over it."

Sarah glanced at Chuck, who rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know. Calm down, deep breaths..." He inhaled shallowly, quickly.

* * *

She recognized the number from his employee file. Morgan was calling already. She sighed slightly before finding her inner innocence again before she answered. "Hello?"

"Catherine?"

"Yes?"

"Hey, Catherine, it's Morgan. Morgan Grimes. We met at the hospital today."

"Yes, the guy with the 'or something' infamous friend."

Morgan chuckled nervously. "That's me all right. Listen, listen, Catherine, I was thinking... I know it's terribly uncool to call so quickly after meeting someone but... do you ever... Do you ever feel like there's a connection, one that's so deep and penetrating, one that's so real and so true and so _instant_ that you just can't let the moment go?"

"I think you're very sweet, Morgan, but I think you're moving a little too quickly for me."

"Right, right, I understand, but I just... I guess maybe I was seeing something that wasn't there. Maybe it's just post-traumatic-whatever. I mean, my 'or something' infamous friend, y'know, he was... He was shot. It was very scary. Makes a guy think about his mortality. Makes a guy want to call a beautiful girl within mere hours of her giving him her number 'cause... Well, you never know what tomorrow will bring... y'know? Not to mention, a geek like me and a hottie like you... What're the odds?"

She smiled a little. There was no way he was a spy. She doubted he even knew what his roommate did for a living, or his neighbor for that matter. "All right, listen, Morgan, I'm on break right now from the hospital, and I've got to get back, but... I'll call you. We'll have dinner or something."

"Really? Catherine, that's... that would be great. I'd really love that. To have a meal with you... That... that's awesome."

"We'll talk soon, Morgan."

"Yeah, sure, of course. Have a great night, at the hospital, doing your shift..."

She did manage to hang up the phone before she laughed. Where on earth did Carmichael find a guy like _that_?

* * *

Sarah smiled smugly. "Perfect." She typed a message to Morgan from Castle: _Brilliant job, Morgan. We've got her._

"That was it?"

"That was it," Sarah said, looking at the trace signature on the computer screen. "Now, we just follow the GPS in the phone... We've got Casey's killer."

Chuck exhaled. "So, does this mean I can go home?"

"Not yet."

"But..."

"Once she's in custody, Chuck. I'm not going to take any risks with your safety. Being one man low on our team is bad enough."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"I, um... I wanted to say thanks."

"For what?"

"I was supposed to take that bullet."

"It's not clear by now? I'm the expendable one."

"Not to Ellie."

Casey closed his eyes. "About your sister..."


	11. Chapter 10

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot: Casey isn't sure why Ellie returns his feelings, though Ellie admits to feeling like an idiot because of everything happening under her nose without her realizing it. At Castle, the computer program determines that Catalyst was at the hospital and that Morgan talked to her. Sarah and Chuck enlist Morgan's help to trace Catalyst's cell phone.

* * *

She sat up when she heard a familiar voice in the courtyard. She hadn't seen Sarah, not since just after Casey pulled through surgery. Ellie got to her feet, moving toward the door. She hadn't bothered going to bed or changing clothes. She'd just rested on the couch, staring at the ceiling, pondering her life in general. She wasn't sure where she stood, or what to do, but if Sarah was there, maybe Chuck was, too.

She quietly opened her door, stepping into the courtyard and watching as Sarah distributed paperwork to the agents milling about. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, running her fingers self-consciously through her hair.

Sarah glanced over when one of the agents nodded towards the doctor.

Ellie lifted a hand to wave.

The blonde crossed towards her. "Hey, Ellie. How are you?"

She smiled but didn't answer. "Is Chuck okay?"

"Chuck's fine. He's--"

"In some undisclosed safe house or something?" Ellie asked. "That's what John said."

Sarah nodded. "We know who shot Casey and we're doing everything we can to find her. Hopefully you won't be seeing these guys around much longer," she said, nodding towards the visible protection presence.

Ellie didn't mind them, really. A whole team _might_ be able to replace Casey. "Sarah, I... Things are different now."

"What do you mean?" While, yes, she'd seen what Casey had said as well as Ellie's response, Sarah wasn't about to let slip that she and Chuck had been spying on them.

"I need to talk to Chuck," she said quietly.

"He's got his cell phone," Sarah told her. "Feel free to call anytime you like. Until we catch Casey's shooter, though, I'm afraid he's going to have to stay where he is and I can't take you to him."

Ellie nodded. "But, he's safe?"

"You have my word," Sarah said.

* * *

Almost as soon as Sarah had left, Chuck turned the monitors back on. He watched as Casey stared at the ceiling, as he growled at the nurses as they came in to check on him, as he couldn't seem to get comfortable. Chuck thought for a solid five minutes about what to do before finally picking up his cell phone and calling Casey's room.

"Yeah?"

"Hey-hey, big guy," Chuck managed, watching as Casey gave a slight smirk.

"Bartowski."

"Stupid question, but, um... how are you feeling?"

He managed a slight grunt.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Chuck said, leaning back in his chair. He worried, just a little, that Casey didn't have some snappy one liner. But, given the fact that Casey had been shot, he'd cut the Colonel some slack. "I, um... I wanted to say thanks."

"For what?"

"I was supposed to take that bullet."

"It's not clear by now? I'm the expendable one."

"Not to Ellie."

Casey closed his eyes. "About your sister..."

"I told her what you wanted me to tell her."

"I know. Thanks for that."

"You bet, buddy."

"But, Chuck... about your sister..."

He watched as Casey tried to say something. "What about Ellie?" he asked although, of course, he already knew.

"I probably made her life really confusing."

"You have that effect on people. I'm remembering, vividly, our first encounter. I know my life turned upside down when I met you and Sarah. You've come a long way, baby, from intimidating dude in a suit to... intimidating dude in a green polo," Chuck said with a smile.

"Have you talked to Ellie?"

"Not since you woke up," he said, glancing around the confining Castle walls.

He let out a mildly disappointed grumble.

Chuck glanced at the screen, hoping that Casey would make a move to say something else. It was clear, however, after a few silent seconds, that he wasn't about to. "I know what you told her," he admitted, watching as Casey winced. "I've been thinking a lot about it. I'm sure you've been thinking a lot about it. Ellie, too, for that matter... If you're worried about my saying something... C'mon. It's not my place. And even if it were, y'know what I'd say?"

"No idea," he barely managed.

"That you've been supportive of me and Sarah." Chuck paused. "No, supportive isn't the right word. I don't think there's one word to encompass it all, buddy. You've encouraged us, supported us, and you've covered for us. And any grunts or eye rolls were only because you loved us. But, the bottom line is this: I'm not in this fight. Whatever Ellie chooses... that's what goes."

"I never meant to put her in this position."

"Casey..."

"Yeah?"

"Let the pain meds knock you out, big guy. You've gotta get some sleep. If you don't rest up, you won't heal up, and we need you. Team Bartowski just isn't the same without you."

"Thanks, Chuck."

"One question..."

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you do it? Really?"

"Do what?"

"Take the bullet. The bullet that had my name on it."

Casey scoffed but it was weak. "I was just doing my job."

Chuck gave a half grin. "Feel better, pal."

"Thanks," Casey managed before hanging up.

Chuck took a slow breath. No matter what happened, somebody was going to get hurt. While he wished he could've prevented it, the pain, from all sides, it was too monstrous a job for any mere mortal to tackle. The only "good" thing, if it could be called that, was that whoever wasn't picked, whoever Ellie didn't want, both Casey and Devon were honorable enough men to leave them be.

He stood, stretching his long limbs, when his phone rang again. He glanced at the main screen, but Casey finally looked like he might be trying to sleep instead of counting the ceiling tiles. Reaching for the phone, he saw his sister's smiling face, which brought a smile to his own. "Hey, El."

"Chuck, I..." She hesitated.

He waited as long as he dared before finally speaking. "Ellie, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do," she whispered.

Chuck balanced the phone carefully on his shoulder, quietly typing on the terminal, pulling up the security feed from the apartment complex. After a few keystrokes, he found her, sitting on her living room floor. His heart broke for her. "I know."

"You know?"

"I... I talked to Casey," he started haltingly.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you didn't."

"I still love Devon, y'know, but it's not... It's not the same. It's not what it used to be."

"Nobody said you had to have an answer tonight, did they?"

"No, no. Of course not," Ellie said, running her fingers through her dark hair. "But..."

"But, it's different," Chuck provided.

"Yes!"

"And it's scary."

"Exactly."

"And, no matter what choice you make, you feel like you're letting someone down." When he heard her sniffling, he looked at her screen, watching as she rested her chin on her knee, a few more tears sliding down her cheeks. "Ellie, at some point, you have to make a decision for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"When Mom left, you always took care of me and Dad. And when Dad left, you always took care of me. And, to some extent, Morgan. And then when Devon came along... Ellie, when Devon came along, you always took care of him, too. I know that's who you are, you have this... innate mothering instinct. You couldn't turn it off if you wanted to. But, all along, there's been one person who missed out on being put first. Ellie, in all the years I've known you, I've never seen you put yourself first once."

"That's not true!" she whispered. "I stole money from your piggy bank to buy a New Kids fanny pack and I lied to you about it."

He couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped. "Sis, please. For starters, you confessed that sin already. Forgiven and forgotten. Secondly, one selfish act twenty years ago does not constitute putting yourself first _now._"

"How do I know I'm making the right choices?"

If this wasn't role reversal, he wasn't sure what was. Chuck scratched at his chin, pondering. "You don't," he said quietly. "But, you... You're Eleanor Fay Bartowski. Ultimately, I know that you'll make the right one."

"But, what if making the right choice now proves that I made the wrong choice before?"

"If there's one thing I've learned being a spy... Well, there's been lots of things I've learned, but the one thing that _applies_ most in this situation is that sometimes you don't have the all the intel at your fingertips every time. Sometimes you do things because it's the smart choice given what you know at the moment. I mean, c'mon... when you met Devon, you didn't even know Casey yet. And when you were getting engaged and getting married to Devon, you didn't know everything about Casey. So, how are you supposed to kick yourself over making the best decision you could at the time?"

"John planned my wedding," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I was kinda... there... for that."

She sniffled, raising her head. "You were?"

"Let's just say, it's a very good thing that Jeffster ruined the wedding before you had a chance to look at the reception hall. It was... It was a little touch-and-go there for a while."

"He said there were other instances where you guys tried to help us..."

"We did what we could, sis."

"Why?"

"Because I love you and I wanted you to be happy. And so I tried to orchestrate that."

"You shouldn't have."

"You can't hold me too responsible, can you? C'mon, El, you've got that mega-watt, zillion candle-power smile. I miss it when it goes away. And I know the past five, six years, I've been the cause of your smile going into hibernation a _lot_. Getting kicked out of Stanford was... It was a low blow to me, but, believe me, Ellie, the thing that just about killed me was seeing your face when you picked me up at the train station."

"Chuck..."

"You always put me first, Ellie. Always. I never got a lot of chances to do that for you, at least, not until I joined the CIA, and I... I'll never be able to repay you for all of the instances."

"You don't have to."

"I know I don't _have_ to, but I _want_ to. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And you've got two options here but, you've got to make the decision. I know, believe me, I know it's not an easy one to face."

"I never would've given John another look had he not been there for me in San Francisco..."

Chuck closed his eyes, nodding. "I know."

"Every time I needed him..." Her voice broke. "Every time I've needed him since then, he's always been _right there_. But, Devon... there's so much history. I mean, I've known him for ten years."

"It wasn't always perfect. I remember." He remembered long phone calls when he was at Palo Alto, listening as Ellie would try to rationalize and process her burgeoning relationship with Devon. It hadn't always been 'awesome.' In fact, after that first epidemiology class, after that first experience in the broom closet, it was awkward.

They'd danced around each other for years. On again, off again. Off again, on again.

She broke up with him because she couldn't stand the "brain trust," his insane frat brothers.

He broke up with her because she didn't understand his need for adrenaline.

She broke up with him because he was immature.

He broke up with her because she was too serious.

Chuck had just attributed it to becoming adults and the growing pains that went with it. By the time he came home from Stanford, he thought they'd finally ironed out all the wrinkles in their relationship because it was about that time they finally started using the "love" word. Up until that point, neither one said it, not to the other.

He watched as she dried her cheeks, lifting her chin, squaring her shoulders. _That_ was his sister. Poised, even in pain.

"Thanks, Chuck."

"Uh..." What had he said? "You're welcome?"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, you bet. Call me whenever. I'll have my phone while I'm... stuck in this secure... bunker... place."

"Love you, little brother."

He smiled. "Love you, too, sis."

* * *

She replayed the conversation she'd had with Carmichael's roommate. It seemed innocuous enough, but was it? Something nagged at her, some detail she felt she'd missed. Opening her cell phone, she accessed the call log. Kicking herself for a momentary lapse in judgment, she realized that she'd inadvertently talked long enough for someone to initiate a trace.

Chiding herself for being so careless, she immediately packed her computer. She needed to finish her mission and she needed to complete it quickly.

She hesitated, wondering if she might be able to use the knowledge that she was being tracked to her advantage. A slow smile took to her lips.

* * *

Chuck wandered out into the Castle in the middle of the night when he realized that the cot just down from his was empty. And he was pretty sure Sarah had said she'd be staying the night there, too. He stumbled into the main room in bare feet and pajamas, rubbing at his tired eyes. He saw Sarah, sitting at the terminal, her eyes scanning the screens. "Sarah?"

"Go back to bed, Chuck."

"I would say the same to you, but I'm not sure you've been to bed yet. Have you slept at all since Casey...?"

Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him.

Even through the makeup, he could tell that the circles under her eyes were darker than normal. "C'mon. Catalyst can be someone else's problem for an hour or two."

"Chuck, I think I'm making progress. I'll be there soon. You go on," she said, looking back at the screens.

He sighed heavily, moving forward. With gentle pressure, he spun her chair away from the terminal. "I know I'm not as intimidating as Casey, but I bet we could call him and he'd growl at you from Westside."

"That's really not necessary," Sarah told him. "Ten minutes, max."

"See, I'd believe you if I thought you'd slept at all last night either. Up and at 'em, missy," he said, reaching for her hand to pull her up.

"Chuck, his potential killer--_your_ potential killer--is still out there."

"With Casey benched, me in the dugout... you can't be out there, in the field, chasing after Catalyst without a good night's sleep and a lovely, filling--not to mention tasty--MRE in the morning. C'mon," he said, lightly tugging on her hand.

"But..."

"I'm not above calling the General."

She wrinkled her nose. "You're going to 'tattle'?"

"That depends," he said in all seriousness. It didn't last long as a hint of a grin took to his lips while he asked: "Are you coming for nap time or not?"

She sighed, looking at the computer.

"You can't tell me that the CIA and the NSA don't have their best guys working around the clock."

"That would be us," Sarah said.

"I mean, when we sleep, there are others to step up and fill in. So, let's sleep. 'Cause, otherwise, you're just annoying the hell out of some poor agent schmuck who's waiting desperately to take over for you for a few brief hours, 'cause, otherwise, his sleep patterns are being destroyed for naught."

Sarah shook her head, fighting desperately against a yawn that threatened to emerge.

He watched her squint her eyes and reach a hand up to cover her mouth. She tried to cover it as though she were about to sneeze, but he wasn't buying it. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, finally tugging her to her feet.

She stood toe-to-toe with him, looking up in his kind, deep brown eyes. She sighed softly. The prospect of sleeping did sound nice. The prospect of sleeping with him sounded even nicer. Her hand found his and she gently laced her fingers with his. "Maybe a few hours won't be so bad," she whispered.

"There's my girl," Chuck murmured.

Sarah didn't make any moves to follow him back further into the Castle. She could've lost him. She could've lost her partner, too. She'd shoved her emotions into tiny boxes lining the very darkest recesses of her heart to be able to focus on the task, to be able to do her job. It was something she'd learned from a young age, from her father as he ran cons and scams.

But, the stakes were too high this time around. She had entirely too much invested. After all, she'd come to rely on Casey for his partnership. He was the closest thing to a big brother she'd ever had. And she'd come to love Chuck. He was the closest to normal, to_ real _she knew she'd ever get. Rocking up on her toes, she kissed Chuck's cheek before wrapping her arms around him.

He pulled her close, taking a slow, deep breath. "I know there's been a lot of admissions on the part of others today, and, this isn't necessarily a new revelation, but, Sarah... I've always loved you."

She smiled, resting her head on his chest. "I feel the same way."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

Sarah eased carefully into the courtyard with her gun drawn. There was nothing out of place, nothing outwardly amiss that she could see. Replacing her gun in the back waistband of her slacks, she crossed to Casey's apartment, knocking. "Joan? Ellie?" She remained vigilant as she waited on the door to be opened, keeping her eyes peeled.

Joan opened the door quickly. "Sarah, dear."

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked. Joan looked edgy but confident. Ellie was further within the house, leaning against an interior wall, anxiousness and concern etched in her face.

Before either of them could answer, however, there was a very clear thump from the courtyard.

Ellie ducked immediately.

Sarah spun to see Catalyst by the fountain, a gun aimed at the doorway.


	12. Chapter 11

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

...the closer I get to the end of a story, the harder time I have waiting to post things. I'm sure y'all don't mind.

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Sarah delivers intel on Catalyst to the guards at the courtyard at the apartment complex and briefly talks to Ellie. Chuck plays the confidant to Casey, the supportive little brother to Ellie, and the overprotective boyfriend to Sarah all within the span of a few hours. Catalyst, meanwhile, realizes she made a mistake, one that could cost her if she doesn't amend her plan.

* * *

Devon woke first, killing his alarm when it went off. He realized as he sat up that there was no familiar warmth beside him. As he looked at Ellie's side of the bed, it didn't look like she'd been there at all. He sighed, wondering if she'd spent another night at the hospital.

He took a quick shower, pulled on a clean set of scrubs and sneakers, and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. He had every intention of whipping up one of his protein-blend energy shakes but didn't when he saw Ellie asleep on the couch.

She didn't look like she normally did when she slept. Peaceful, sometimes childlike. This time was very different. She looked troubled, like she wasn't really getting any rest at all.

He knew she felt it was mostly his fault. He still didn't see how she could differentiate the situations. It angered him, annoyed him, and saddened him. But, he felt distrust for her as well. She'd kept the truth from him, that she'd known _something_ about the spy life that had plagued him for the past year.

He bypassed the kitchen, heading out into the dawning morning.

* * *

Ellie hadn't slept well on the couch. She'd attributed it to the fact that she'd been up all night the night before and had slept most of the day in Casey's room. It couldn't possibly be because she was torn about the men in her life. After a shower and getting dressed for the day, she numbly made coffee, watching the pot percolate with distracted eyes.

She forced a smile, however, when she heard Joan come into the living room. "Morning," she said, as cheerfully as she could manage.

"Good morning, dear," Joan said, joining Ellie in the kitchen. She looked up at the doctor, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes. Wordlessly, she gently patted Ellie's hand

"I'll need just a little caffeine before I drive, I think," Ellie told her.

"Take all the time you need."

She couldn't prevent a slight sigh when she heard her cell phone ring. It was so early, who could've possibly been calling? Ellie moved back into the living room, grabbing her phone. She eased when she recognized the number from Casey's hospital room. "Hello?"

"Ellie."

"Hey, John," she said, moving back into the kitchen. "I'm going to put you on speaker phone, if that's all right. I'm sure your mom is eager to hear you as well." With acknowledgment from the NSA agent, Ellie hit another button. "Can you hear us?" she asked, setting the phone down on the counter between them.

"Loud and clear," came the reply.

He still sounded weak, Ellie noted with some distress.

"Are you still at home?"

"For the moment. We were going to leave pretty quickly," Ellie assured him.

"Are you all right, Johnny? Did you need something?" Joan asked.

"I was wondering if you might do me a favor, before you came in."

"Anything," Ellie answered.

"I could really use some of my own clothes. Mom, I found the toiletries and things from the gift shop. My clean teeth appreciate those, but I... I would really like my own clothes."

Ellie smiled a little. "Those gowns leave a lot to be desired."

"And a lot to be covered," Casey grumbled.

"Is there anything specifically you'd like, dear?" asked Joan.

"There are pajamas in the second drawer in the dresser in my bedroom. Whatever you find is fine."

"What about a key?" asked Ellie.

"There's a manual override. Behind the eight in the apartment number, there's a hidden access panel. You'll need to input code 355432."

Ellie suddenly scrambled, grabbing the notepad from by the fridge and looking for the ink pen that should've been close to it. "Hang on, John, I haven't had enough caffeine to remember much of anything more complex than 'pajamas.'"

"It's all right, Ellie," said Joan. "I've got it."

She stopped her search. "Are you sure?"

"355432," repeated Joan with a shrug.

"Thank you both," Casey said.

"We'll see you soon, dear," Joan said as Ellie ended the call.

"How about two cups of coffee to go?" asked Ellie.

"Sounds lovely."

Ellie filled two thermal mugs. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Just as splash of cream."

Ellie smiled a little, adding creamer to both mugs before topping them with the lids. She offered one to Joan, who readily accepted it. Turning the pot off, Ellie led Joan out of the apartment, locking her door. "Did you sleep all right?"

Joan glanced around, her blue eyes taking in what was amiss in the courtyard. "Oh, just fine, dear. It's a lovely room. Thank you again for your kindness."

"It was my pleasure, really."

The veteran spy didn't alert Ellie that the guards, who'd been a constant presence, were missing. Once they were at Casey's door, however, Joan worked quickly to open the access panel and override the door locks to let them in. "Ellie, would you gather his clothes?" Joan asked as she stepped into the apartment first, casting a quick glance across the open areas. Surely, no one else would've been able to bypass his security.

As Ellie ascended the stairs, Joan immediately started looking for a weapon. If she knew her son, she knew he had to have something stashed somewhere. Maybe even several somethings. She checked his desk drawers, the ones that weren't locked, as well as the bookshelf. She paused momentarily when her eyes landed on the tri-folded flag. After all, that had brought her husband, his father, home.

Pushing past that, she continued her search. As she heard Ellie begin to descend the stairs again, she decided she wasn't going to be able to locate a gun, and grabbed two steak knives from the butcher block in the kitchen.

"All right, next stop: hospital," Ellie said, easing the black duffel bag onto her shoulder. She paused in mid-step, however, when she saw the glinting silver blades in Joan's hands.

"I don't mean to alarm you, dear, but I need to speak to your brother right away."

"J-Joan..."

"Would you call him, please?"

* * *

Chuck sighed heavily, resting his head in his hand, his elbow on the counter. "You gotta be kidding me."

Sarah was breezing around the Castle, loading a duffel bag with gear and occasionally stopping to enter more commands into the computer terminal. "There's very clearly a reason why she's the Catalyst, why she has the reputation that she has."

"We traced her cell phone. We had solid intel that she would be there, that she'd just been there..."

"She could've ghosted the data chip, she could've ditched the phone... Morgan might not have had the tracer device properly plugged in, which might've corrupted the data."

"Well, what do we do now?" Chuck asked as his cell phone started to ring.

Sarah smiled a little. "You answer your phone and I will head out to investigate the warehouse, just in case. If she was there, she might've left some clue, like she did at the club."

Chuck grabbed his phone, smiling a little when he saw his sister's face on the caller-ID. He hoped, though, that she was in better spirits than she had been before. "Hey, sis."

"Not quite," answered Joan. "We seem to have a situation."

"Joan?"

Sarah stopped, glancing back at him.

"Wha-what's wrong?"

"The CIA team that had been at the apartment... it's gone."

He offered a slight, relieved sigh. "Oh. Yeah, we just pulled a raid where Catalyst was supposed to be."

"Wait... Supposed?" Joan repeated.

"Yeah. Very long story. Long story short, we're back at square one. _Again_."

"If she was supposed to be somewhere else, and wasn't, where is she now, Chuck?"

Chuck felt his stomach drop to his toes. "Somewhere the guards no longer are," he realized. "Sit tight." He ended the call, looking at anxiously Sarah. "Ellie and Joan... the apartment..."

He didn't have to explain further. "I'll take care of them," Sarah said, grabbing the duffel she'd packed. "Stay put."

"Yeah, uh-huh..." Chuck watched as Sarah left. But, Joan and Ellie weren't the only ones who were sitting ducks. He grabbed some gear of his own, including a laptop and a tranquilizer gun, before rushing up the stairs.

* * *

Sarah eased carefully into the courtyard with her gun drawn. There was nothing out of place, nothing outwardly amiss that she could see. Replacing her gun in the back waistband of her slacks, she crossed to Casey's apartment, knocking. "Joan? Ellie?" She remained vigilant as she waited on the door to be opened, keeping her eyes peeled.

Joan opened the door quickly. "Sarah, dear."

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked. Joan looked edgy but confident. Ellie was further within the house, leaning against an interior wall, anxiousness and concern etched in her face.

Before either of them could answer, however, there was a very clear thump from the courtyard.

Ellie ducked immediately.

Sarah spun to see Catalyst by the fountain, a gun aimed at the doorway. Without hesitation, she tumbled out of the way.

Joan crouched, falling back into a defensive position behind the wall. She made eye-contact with Ellie, mouthing for the doctor to: "Stay here."

Ellie managed a slight nod.

* * *

Chuck skidded to a stop outside of Casey's unguarded room. They could've at least left _someone_ to protect the NSA agent. After all, he was still recuperating and was unarmed. He pushed the door open, the tranquilizer gun stretched in front of him.

"Bartowski?"

"Casey, are you okay?"

Casey would've offered some kind of snappy remark, but the fact that the Intersect was packing was cause for concern. "What's going on?"

With a sigh, Chuck slid a backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it before pulling out a laptop. "CIA raided a place outside of town, thanks to a hit on Catalyst's cell phone. It was empty."

Casey, who was still drained of color from the shooting, seemed to turn even more ghastly. "Ellie--"

"Your mother is with her. And Sarah's on the way." He woke the laptop, setting it on the table next to Casey's cot. "Plus, I brought visuals."

"Chuck, you need to go protect them. I'll be fine."

"Sarah can handle it. And your mom may have been out of the game for a while, but, bro, she was a serious badass. I can see where you get it from."

Casey looked up at him slowly. "My mother? What are you talking about?"

Chuck looked at him. "You didn't... You didn't know? Your mom, Casey, she... she was in the Intersect."

Casey's expression darkened. "My mother?"

"Elizabeth Lennox turned Coburn. Codename: Bluebird. CIA agent of days gone by. Once her son assumed a deep-cover name, so did she."

The older agent closed his eyes tightly. He'd always wondered why, but he'd never asked. He didn't want to know. It was selfish, to be able to hold onto something from his old life. And it was beyond dangerous, which was why he rarely contacted her. He exhaled.

Chuck hesitantly reached out, placing a hand on the NSA killer's shoulder. It did little to settle the Intersect's nerves, that Casey didn't grunt, grumble or glare in return. "They'll be fine, buddy. They're three tough ladies..." He pointed at the screen, showing footage from the courtyard. "See? It's just Sarah and your Mom... and I'm sure it's nothing."

Except, that was when Catalyst jumped from the stairwell leading to the upper apartments down to the center of the courtyard, startling Chuck.

* * *

Sarah propelled herself further along the wall of the apartment complex, barely missing Catalyst's first two shots. Taking cover behind a planter, she attempted to return fire but Catalyst, too, found safety in the courtyard's various foliage. They shot rather blindly into the tropical plants, trying to guess the others' movements.

Joan moved as quietly as possible, as slowly and as carefully as possible, to try to assist Sarah in any way that she could. It had been a long time since she's had any field experience, but it was like riding a bike, she decided. She may not have done a mission in ages, but the movements, the emotions, the training, it all came back.

As she finally located a relatively safe spot to watch, when she'd finally spotted Catalyst, the terrorist rushed at Sarah, knocking her to the ground and, in the process, separating her from her gun.

Sarah tried to ignore the pain of sliding in her back on the rough stone, focusing instead on two things: trying to get the would-be killer off of her and trying to get her weapon back. Neither task was easy, as Catalyst was merciless.

She may have been a skinny, tiny agent, but she was powerful.

Summoning her own strength, Sarah managed to roll Catalyst off of her and get to her feet. She landed one solid kick before Catalyst rolled out of Sarah's range. She smiled a little at the sound of another clattering weapon.

Catching her breath for only a second, Catalyst again rushed at Sarah, landing two solid punches before Sarah was able to return any. But, when Sarah was able to return the punches, Catalyst was feeling the pain, as her lip split wide open.

They were fairly evenly matched. For each blocked kick, for each avoided fist, an equal number landed.

* * *

Ellie closed her eyes tightly, listening to the sickening smacks of the fight. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the brutal sounds. She knew one thing for certain: the gunshots had stopped.

She'd been at the center of one too many fights this year, without knowing what to do, without having a way of protecting herself or others. And it was a feeling she was growing to hate. Looking around Casey's apartment, she was desperate for something to do, to somehow take a proactive role in her own safety and security.

Even if she'd wanted to wait on Casey to save her now, there was no way he could.

Her eyes landed on the small table by the door. She remembered, after the fiasco at the hospital, that he'd found a gun there. And it hadn't been his normal gun. She wasn't sure what kind of gun he carried, but she'd held it once before, in San Francisco. It had been a big, black gun. The one he'd grabbed from the table had been smaller and silver.

Keeping low, she crawled towards the front door. Licking her lips nervously, she examined the table. Strapped to the bottom was a leather holster with a silver handgun.

* * *

"Chuck, you need to get back there," Casey said, watching as Sarah lost her footing after a particularly nasty punch.

"Even if I leave now, we're in the middle of morning drive time. I'll never make it."

"It's your sister. Your girlfriend. My mother. Chuck, they need help!"

"They're doing okay, look," he said, watching as Sarah administered three kicks in rapid succession, knocking Catalyst back towards the fountain.

"We have to do something." He'd give _anything_ to be out of that bed, to be in that courtyard, giving his partner backup. "Call in aerial support. If nobody can drive out there fast enough, a chopper'll make it."

Chuck juggled his cell phone.

* * *

Sarah thought she was making progress. She thought she was winning, pushing Catalyst further into the open of the courtyard, into a clearer area for backup to arrive and help her. And, surely, backup had to be on the way.

It seemed like the tide had turned, as Catalyst moved to being on the defensive only, unable to return any offensive maneuvers.

In those few seconds, when Sarah started to get comfortable, Catalyst made her move.

Sarah didn't see it coming, the powerful spinning kick that sent her flying backwards. She hit the base of the fountain with enough force to crack the stone.

Joan watched as Sarah couldn't get back up, not at first. Taking a slow breath, she found her center, her focus, letting the first knife fly. It lodged successfully in the back of Catalyst's arm, above her elbow.

Wincing, she pulled it loose, letting it clatter to the ground. She turned, spotting the gray-haired veteran spy. Catalyst chuckled. "Seriously, grandma, I don't think you want to get in this fight."

Except, Joan threw the other knife, and it landed just below her shoulder. Her aim was no longer perfect, but it had served its purpose, to give Sarah the chance to catch her breath, to try to get up.

Chuckling, Catalyst pulled it from her skin as well. Instead of letting it drop, however, she reared her arm back, to throw it back at Joan. "Let me show you how you're _supposed_ to do that."

Catalyst never got the chance to bring her arm forward, to throw the knife, to complete the follow through.

* * *

Chuck and Casey were both holding their breath as Catalyst froze, when the gunshot echoed through the speakers. She dropped the knife, slowly dropping to her knees. A red stain began to flow from the agent's mid section.

"Sarah. I knew she'd be able to," Chuck said with a nod. "She must've gotten her gun back... Told you there was nothing to worry about."

Casey shook his head, pointing towards the blonde form, who had gotten to her knees. Pushing off the base of the fountain, she was looking back, across the courtyard and not at the fallen Ring agent.

Even Joan stood slowly, looking somewhere other than where the focus of the attention should have been.

"What?" Chuck asked. "The air support, it couldn't have gotten there yet, could it?"

"I don't think so," said Casey, reaching up and hitting a few keystrokes on the laptop. He couldn't type as fast as he normally would, not with an IV in his hand. Accessing the cameras within the courtyard remotely, he slowly panned to follow his mother and his partner's line of sight.

Chuck's jaw dropped.

* * *

Ellie slowly lowered her arms. The gun still felt heavy, cold and foreign in her right hand. A hint of smoke trailed from the barrel.

"Ellie?" Sarah asked.

With trembling arms, she held it out to the spy, who was slowly getting to her feet.

Sarah took it, watching as Ellie numbly pushed forward.

Ellie could almost hear Casey's voice in her ear, telling her not to think about it, to focus on the process of doing something, to not let her emotions control her. Essentially, everything he'd taught her in the past few months. She didn't think it would culminate in this experience, but she couldn't dwell on that. Not yet.

She licked her impossibly dry lips, though it did little to help. "Sarah, I need you to call the paramedics," she said, crossing towards the fallen spy.

The CIA agent blinked. "What?"

"She's going to need more help than I can give," Ellie said, kneeling by the fallen would-be assassin. "Joan, there's a medical kit beneath the sink in John's kitchen. Go get it." She looked into the stone eyes of the woman she'd just _shot_.

Joan glanced at Sarah quickly, and their blue eyes met in shock for a moment before she rushed to do as Ellie'd instructed.

Sarah slid the gun into the waistband of her slacks, pulling out her cell phone and dialing a secure line. "This is Agent Sarah Walker, verification 8195-oscar-foxtrot. I need an emergency medical evacuation at my GPS coordinates for the Ring terrorist Catalyst." Balancing the phone on her shoulder, she hit the button on the side of her watch twice.

* * *

Chuck fell, hard, into the chair next to Casey's bed, unable to speak.

Casey watched as Ellie applied pressure to the wound, as she did everything she'd ever been trained to do, as much as she could do with the equipment in his first aid kit. He realized, as much as she had thought _he_ had been the saint, it was, very clearly, the other way around. Ellie had just saved Sarah and Joan, and now she was trying to save Catalyst. That sounded like three miracles to him, given that Ellie wasn't like them. She was no spy.

The image that was seared in his brain, however, was her slowly lowering her arm, and the gun, _his_ gun, the spare from the living room, had been in _her_ hand.

Chuck's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket, but he couldn't even muster a half-grin when he saw Sarah's photo. He wasn't even sure he could answer it.

Casey glanced over as Chuck held the phone out to him. Clearing his throat, he accepted it, answering it. "Walker?"

"Casey... We got Catalyst."

"We saw it," he said. "Chuck came to the hospital, brought a laptop."

"This changes things," Sarah said quietly.

"Yeah," he managed.

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"Ellie?" he asked, crossing towards her.

"I hate to have this conversation now, but do you have a minute?"

He nodded slowly. After all, she hadn't wanted to talk since Casey'd been shot. He figured this might be a turning point in their relationship, things might be getting better if she wanted to initiate the dialogue. He led her out of the hall, and into a quiet office at the end of the corridor. "What's up?"

She closed her eyes, taking a ragged breath. "Devon, I did something today I never thought I'd do."


	13. Chapter 12

For disclaimer and notes, please see part one.

Again, my impatience... another early post. :)

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Devon heads off to the hospital after sleeping alone. Ellie and Joan get a call from Casey, who needs clothes. Joan discovers that the guards are missing. Chuck informs them that the agents were removed for a raid on a warehouse where Catalyst was believed to be, but wasn't. So, if she wasn't where they thought, where would she be? Sarah goes to the apartment complex while Chuck goes to check on Casey. At the hospital, they're able to watch the events unfold in the courtyard, where Sarah and Catalyst begin a battle, but Ellie ends it.

* * *

He was making his rounds, keeping busy. While he was at work, he needed to focus on work. At least, that had been Devon's plan until he saw his wife standing in the corridor, looking pale. "Ellie?" he asked, crossing towards her.

"I hate to have this conversation now, but do you have a minute?"

He nodded slowly. After all, she hadn't wanted to talk since Casey'd been shot. He figured this might be a turning point in their relationship, things might be getting better if she wanted to initiate the dialogue. He led her out of the hall, and into a quiet office at the end of the corridor. "What's up?"

She closed her eyes, taking a ragged breath. "Devon, I did something today I never thought I'd do."

He leaned against the desk, trying to work up a worst-case scenario as to what she could've done. He felt he knew her, knew what she was capable of and what she wasn't. After quick consideration, he realized it couldn't be all that bad. "What's that?"

"I shot someone."

He gave a slight, absurd smile. "What, with a syringe?" She did that all the time at work.

"No," she said. "With a bullet."

Devon's eyebrows drifted up his forehead. His thought process had ended at her running a red light or cutting someone off on the freeway. Maybe, possibly, stealing someone's parking spot. Her using a weapon didn't even remotely appear on his radar. "Come again?"

"I..." She looked up at him, to see the fear in his eyes. It was deserved, she knew. "I _shot_ someone," she repeated in a whisper.

"Ellie, that's not... that's not you," he managed dumbly.

"I know. Believe me, I know. At least... I thought I would never, ever, do something like that." As much as she thought differently, however, the facts remained. "But, I did."

He struggled to wrap his mind around it, to figure it out, to puzzle it through. "It was self-defense, right? Someone was coming at you, and you just..." He drifted off. He still couldn't manage to say it out loud himself.

Ellie glanced at the floor between them. "Not exactly."

He looked at her curiously, but still with a healthy dose of concern.

She toyed with her wedding and engagement rings. "You know, I thought... I thought you had changed, you'd become someone completely and totally different. You weren't the same Devon I knew. You weren't the same Devon I married. While I still think you've changed, now I _know _I have. A year ago, I never would've touched a gun, let alone pick one up. Six months ago, I wouldn't have. But, within the past six months, everything, for me, has changed. My eyes were opened. I realized that there were things that were..." She struggled for the right word. "_Extraordinarily_," she finally decided, "beyond my control. I made choices, you made choices... Choices neither of us can take back."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't...I don't think this is going to work," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't think we're going to work, not after what we've done, not after what _I've_ done."

* * *

Casey glanced up when the door opened. His mother entered first, her expression unreadable. Sarah followed, carrying the black duffel bag over her shoulder with his clothes. Before he could ask the question he was dying to, Chuck beat him to it.

"Where's Ellie?"

Sarah eased the bag onto the floor, hesitant to answer. "She said she wanted to talk to Devon."

Joan watched her son closely, at how Casey didn't even seem to react to that news.

"And Catalyst?" Chuck asked.

"En route to a secure CIA facility for treatment and interrogation," answered Sarah. "I went ahead and gave Beckman the initial report. The full debrief is still pending. There are some details I need to get from Ellie, and she's not talking to me yet," she admitted.

"Maybe she'll talk to Chuck," Casey said.

"Should I go find her?" Chuck asked.

"Not yet," Casey answered quietly. He cleared his throat. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine, dear," she said, patting his ankle before moving to sit on the couch.

"Walker?" Casey asked.

"Of all the people hurt in the past two days, Casey, you're the one we should be asking that question to," Sarah said.

"It looked like a bad throw," Casey commented casually. "Into the fountain."

"I'm all right," Sarah assured him.

"I'm sure we could get a doctor to come, give you a quick once-over," Chuck added.

Sarah shook her head. "Ellie said I was fine."

"So, you did... you did talk to her?" Chuck asked.

"Briefly. After she worked on Catalyst, she took a look at my back."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Did she say anything else? Anything at all?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not really. I asked her about the gun, about the shooting, but..."

"She just needs a little time," Casey said knowingly.

Sarah glanced at Chuck and Joan. "Would the two of you mind? Just... for a minute..."

Joan stood, patting Chuck on the shoulder. "Come along, dear, maybe there's some fresh coffee somewhere."

Chuck hesitated. "Sarah..."

She shot him a meaningful look along with a slight nod.

Reluctantly, Chuck left with Joan.

Once they were alone, Casey glanced up at his partner. "From the video, it looked like one of my backup pieces. It's probably the Beretta."

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Casey looked at her quizzically.

"I had a thought. For our doctor friends..."

"All right," he said slowly.

"Given the number of civilians that now know the secret, we can't keep this up."

"I know," he said with a sigh.

"The CIA is always looking for good medical personnel, particularly surgeons..."

"You're saying we recruit Devon and Ellie?"

She shrugged. "Awesome has a hard time with keeping secrets... if he was surrounded, working with people who knew, he wouldn't have such a hard time."

"There's no guaranteeing that they'd be assigned to L.A. or anywhere close," Casey said. "Chuck wouldn't be able to handle that."

She knew that he wouldn't be able to either, given his feelings for Ellie. "There's no guaranteeing that one or both of them would want to stay locally, depending on how things turn out," she said slowly. She wanted to brace her partner, just in case.

He let that sentence process. It took a little extra time, given his thoughts were still cloudy from the medicine, from the surgery.

"Speaking from personal experience," she began, "it's not easy to work with someone you care about after you're no longer together."

* * *

Joan watched Chuck closely as he fumbled with the creamer packets for his coffee. He was just as Casey had described him to her. Sweet but goofy, and smart.

Chuck sighed as he managed to rip the package in two, sending the powdered creamer everywhere.

"It's all right," Joan said.

He glanced at her. "No use crying over spilled non-dairy products, huh?"

"I meant your sister," she said. "But, yes, that, too."

"I hope you're right, Joan, I really do. But, I know how long it took for me to be able to deal with all of... well, everything. With all the knowledge. It's overwhelming. And I think Ellie's gotten in a little too deeply with... I mean, she actually... I never would've imagined that she could've picked up a _gun_," he said quietly. "That's not something you just get over. That's not something you just... deal with, y'know?"

"I would respectfully disagree with you, there, Chuck," she said.

"How's that?"

She shrugged slightly. "The only way to get over something, is to get through it. That's the only way to 'deal.' It may not be an easy process for her, she may take a long time in getting through it, but with you around, I'm sure you'll be able to help her."

"The only reason I can deal is because of Sarah and Casey."

She smiled. "There you go, then."

He offered her a rare grin, but it faded quickly. "Um... I may have inadvertently let Casey know, by the way, about who you are. Who you really were..."

"Secrets are always bound to come out."

* * *

It was the middle of the afternoon before Ellie finally found her way to Casey's room. The events of the morning kept replaying in her head, over and over again. Getting the gun, squeezing the trigger, _shooting someone_.

As she pictured it, over and over, she kept getting the distinct feeling that the one she'd shot was herself. Her old self. Her old life.

Devon had agreed. He'd looked at her like a complete stranger, a fact that hurt more than she dared to admit aloud. He said he'd need a day or two to move out, but he'd stay with one of his old frat buddies that night, so they wouldn't have to see each other.

And he'd contact an attorney, as they'd both agreed a quick divorce was in order.

She was numb as she entered the room. No one else was there. She could only assume that perhaps Chuck, Sarah, and Joan had gone out for lunch. Or maybe to report in to their superior officers or whatever it was they did. She didn't know the particulars of the spy work, necessarily.

Running her fingers through her long dark hair, she eased down in the chair by Casey's bed, watching the even rise and fall of his chest, now clad in black pajamas.

It made her smile a little, the sight of those pajamas. They still reminded her of Dennis the Menace's father. But, it was comforting, that something could still remain the same now that everything else was different.

She jumped at every sound down the hallway. After all, shouldn't the police be coming to get her? Wasn't that assault or something? She'd shot someone. There were people all the time getting shot in L.A. As an ER doctor, she'd seen her fair share of bullet wounds and knew that the LAPD was always after the culprit.

So, why weren't they coming after her with handcuffs?

On some basic level, she realized that it was because the woman she'd shot had been a terrorist. But, she wasn't a spy. She wasn't an agent. She was a doctor. A doctor who'd sworn to only help people, to never hurt them.

She hadn't done so well with that promise that day.

"Don't."

She looked up, startled, when she heard Casey's warm voice, thick with sleep. "What?"

He opened his blue eyes slowly, looking at her. "Don't beat yourself up over this."

"Why not?"

"Because, that's not you."

"Neither is shooting people."

"That is more like something I'd do," he said with a nod, "but you were so quick to forgive me my sins. Why is it so hard for you?"

Ellie looked at her left hand, now missing its wedding and engagement ring. "Because, it's different."

"You shot the woman that tried to kill me, that wanted to kill Chuck."

"You do what you do because of orders, because of a mission, for good reasons that are vetted and given consideration by those further up the chain of command..."

"And you did what you did because of who you are."

She looked up at him.

"You're a protector. You always have been. You've always protected Chuck. You just never could've imagined a world where he'd need to be physically protected from someone like Catalyst."

"Who am I, though? Who am I to make that kind of a judgment call?"

"Ellie," he said in all seriousness, "you can't second guess. You can't start to go down the 'what if' road."

"I can't help it."

"I won't let you," he said strongly.

"But..."

"Our government wanted Catalyst, dead or alive. Preferably alive, to figure out what she knows, to figure out about the Ring. You accomplished more than an entire city full of trained CIA agents." He couldn't help but smile as he said that last sentence, as he'd never been fond of Central Intelligence. Even the knowledge that his mother had been a Langley spook wasn't doing much to change his opinion.

She sighed.

"You did exactly what the government wanted done, exactly what those higher-ups ordered."

"But, I didn't know that at the time."

"You used your common sense, your best judgment. You shot my shooter, you prevented your brother's death. You prevented any further harm from coming to my partner and my mother. You're owed a serious debt of gratitude from the CIA, the NSA, and me personally."

"I don't want to be thanked for this, though."

"The sign of a true patriot," he told her.

She shook her head. "You aren't following me, John..."

"I understand that you're confused, that you're hurt, that you're feeling a multitude of emotions that you can't even begin to quantify or explain right now..."

She looked at him guardedly. Maybe he did get it.

"And I'm telling you that it's normal."

She played with her watch, the watch he'd given her. "What happens now?"

"Catalyst goes to prison in an undisclosed location for an indefinite amount of time. You, Chuck and Sarah go back to work. I heal. Mom flies home. Everybody moves forward, one day at a time."

She nodded slowly.

"But, you need to tell Walker a little more about what happened. I'd understand if you don't want to talk about it at length yet, but it has to be part of the debriefing."

She sighed, closing her eyes. She didn't want to have to relive the day by saying it out loud.

Sensing her reluctance, he spoke quietly. "It was my gun, from by the door?"

She nodded.

He'd told Sarah correctly, then. "You saw it there after the incident at the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"You got behind them, without anyone noticing. Out the back window?"

She nodded. "I broke a coffee cup climbing up on the counter in the kitchen," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not fatal," he promised. "I'll tell Walker, so you don't have to."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He looked at her for a long moment. "It'll be okay, Ellie. It'll all be okay."

* * *

Stay tuned...

Lines from the epilogue:

Chuck grinned broadly as the Colonel entered. "Welcome back, big guy! Ta-da!" There was a small humidor on the conference table, sitting next to a bottle of champagne and three paper cups. "We spared no expense. Well, we thought we had another day, really, but when Beckman called and said you were on your way now, we kinda scrambled."

"You didn't have to do anything," he told them.

"We wanted to," Sarah said simply.

"What all have I missed?"

Before either Sarah or Chuck could answer, the Directorate of National Intelligence logo on the screen at the front of the room changed into the face and office of Diane Beckman. "Agent Walker, Agent Bartowski..." She paused, and a hint of a smile took to her lips. "Colonel Casey, glad to have you back."


	14. Epilogue

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Finale of Chuck Season 3 tonight... Finale of the Saint... Thanks so very much to all who took the time to travel on this crazy fic journey. ;) ~K

Here's a couple things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Catalyst attacks at the apartment complex, but it's Ellie that puts an end to the Ring super-agent's career. She realizes, however, that she's not the same person she was, and Devon agrees.

* * *

Casey descended into the Castle slowly. After all, it had been a while since he'd seen the CIA-funded facility. He'd been ordered to take the time to heal properly, to return only at full health. He felt like his sidelining injury had taken forever, but he was proud to make his way down the stairs and into the base once again at last.

Lots of things were different now. Devon had accepted the offer by the CIA, joining their medical team. The doctor relocated to Langley for training, to be transferred to an in-country hospital upon completion.

Ellie took some well-deserved vacation days she'd had saved for a while and disappeared up the coast for three weeks.

Joan had returned to Chicago once Casey had been released from the hospital, but they kept in touch more frequently. Now that he knew who she was, who she'd been, he didn't feel quite so bad about exposing her to the danger that surrounded him. She'd seen it, was familiar with it, and knew how to get out of it. He'd found it exceedingly comforting, being able to really, truly, talk with his mother again.

Sarah had kept him up-to-date on everything going on with the Ring, along with keeping close tabs on Ellie while she was in wine country.

Chuck grinned broadly as the Colonel entered. "Welcome back, big guy! Ta-da!" There was a small humidor on the conference table, sitting next to a bottle of champagne and three paper cups. "We spared no expense. Well, we thought we had another day, really, but when Beckman called and said you were on your way now, we kinda scrambled."

"You didn't have to do anything," he told them.

"We wanted to," Sarah said simply.

"What all have I missed?"

Before either Sarah or Chuck could answer, the Directorate of National Intelligence logo on the screen at the front of the room changed into the face and office of Diane Beckman. "Agent Walker, Agent Bartowski..." She paused, and a hint of a smile took to her lips. "Colonel Casey, glad to have you back."

"Ma'am," Casey returned with a slight incline of his head.

"We just received intel that a nuclear physicist has turned up missing. He's one of our most promising scientists," she said, as the photo and curriculum vitae appeared on screen.

Casey smiled a little. That was how life should be, walking into the Castle and two minutes later, having a mission, a purpose, an objective.

Except all three agents from within the confines of the base turned to a smaller screen, as movement from the interior of the Orange Orange activated the security camera. A brunette had wandered inside.

Beckman frowned on the large screen, noting the distraction of her team. "Is there something I'm missing?"

Casey and Chuck exchanged glances as Sarah covered. "I'm sorry, ma'am, there's a slight security incident going on at the yogurt shop. Casey was just going to check on it."

Casey looked quickly at his partner, who was trying to casually nod towards the stairs.

"Uh... Yeah. Excuse me," he managed.

Chuck watched as Casey took the stairs, two and three at a time, moving quickly back to the restaurant.

* * *

"John?" she called quietly. She wasn't sure what was going on, or if he was there, but she didn't want to interrupt if something important was happening.

He stepped out into the dining room from the back. "Ellie..."

"Hey," she said quietly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw the Crown Vic so I went to the Buy More. Morgan said you weren't there, but that you might be over here..."

"Here I am," he said.

She bit her lower lip. "I was wondering... if maybe... Are you busy for dinner?"

"Tonight?"

"Or, whenever..."

"We just got a new assignment..."

"So, maybe not tonight."

"Probably. But, I would love to. When I'm not working."

"Great. Me, too." It was a little awkward. She felt a little too much like a teenager for her taste. It was just Casey, after all. Casey, who'd already told her that he loved her. Who she'd admitted to having feelings for as well. She didn't understand why the butterflies were in her stomach, or why they were flying in maddening figure eights.

"I probably... I probably need to get back for now," he said. He was stalling. He could get the intel from Sarah and Chuck about the physicist. He didn't, necessarily, have to hear it from the General herself.

"Be careful?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she murmured. She started to leave.

He caught her hand before she could take more than two steps from him. "Ellie," he said, his voice low.

"Yeah?" she asked, breathless, looking back at him.

He closed the distance between them, still holding her hand. "I..." There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he felt he needed to say, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. How to tell her he was sorry for what happened between her and Devon, how he was worried about her when she'd gone off on her own, how happy he was to see her again, how much he was looking forward to dinner.

She searched his eyes, patiently waiting for him to finish his thought. It didn't seem like it was coming. "I don't want to keep you from more important things," she murmured.

"You aren't," he told her.

"Then..."

He leaned in slowly, touching his lips to hers in a tender, sweet kiss. He'd only intended it to be brief, knowing that actions were so much more powerful than words. Given that he couldn't figure out how to say what he wanted to, he hoped that, maybe, she understood, that she still remembered what he'd said the first night in the hospital. Because, he'd meant it.

Her eyes had closed the instant his lips touched hers. She didn't see him pull back, but she felt him slowly raise to stand at his full height.

Before he could worry that she wasn't saying anything, that she didn't seem to be reacting at all, she rocked up on her toes, kissing him back.

* * *

Beckman's frown grew with each passing minute. "Is there something wrong? Is this a serious security breach?"

"Oh, no, General, not at all," Chuck said, shaking his head, pulling his eyes from the security screen as Casey held Ellie closer, tighter against him, returning her deepening kiss.

"Well, what is taking Colonel Casey so long?" Beckman demanded.

"Not to worry, ma'am," Sarah said, turning off the smaller screen. She glanced at Chuck briefly and the two shared a smile before she returned her attention to the General. "Casey has the situation well in hand."

* * *

End.

To be... continued?


End file.
